•*  iVlAKiirUi3  BOOK — tiuw  TO  s‘MAKE-u  A  practical  gun 
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ttBMpia  - 


NO.  OLXV. 

FRE  W  G  H  S  S  T  AMD  A  R  D  D  R  A  IVS  A 

in  1 1  a  n . 


E  PHANTOM 


%  $ntnut,  in 


RY  DION  BOUROIOA.m/i’. 


JO  WHICH  ARE  ADDED 


AS  NOW  PERFORMED  AT  THE  PRINCIPAL  ENGLISH 
AND  AMERICAN  THEATRES. 


New  Yoke: 

SAMUEL  FRENCH  &  SON, 

PUBLISHERS, 

28  West  23d  Street. 


London : 

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PUBLISHERS. 

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A  D'  scripti on  of  the  Costume— Cast  of  the  Characters — Entrances  aid  Exits  -  | 

Relative  Positions  of  the  Performers  on  the  Stage,  and 
the  whole  of  the  Stage  Business. 


I 


fning  RongA  Pearl  Powder,  Whiting,  Mongolian.  Ruddy  Rouge,  Violet  Powder 
l  Puff;  Chrom  e»  Blue,  Burnt  Cork,  Pencils  for  the  eyelids.  Spirit  Gum,  India  Ink. 

T—  3 t» t  U o  tin'a  AX/  Ona r\nA  D  oin  OaI d  Proom  Tai Tiinrr  Pflofn  AT  1 


Oontaii 

>xand; _ _ _ _ 

mel  Hair  Brushes  Hare’s  Foot,  Wool,  Craped  Hair,  Cold  Cream,  Joining  Paste,  Mm 
sure  Puffs,  Scissors  and  Booking  Glass,  packed  neatly  in  Strong  Fancy  Card-boar# 
1  -c«a  *a  oa  -  - a.  Tin  Cases.  *5.00.  , 


With  &  view  to  obviate  the  great  difficulty  experienced  by  Amateurs  (par¬ 
ticularly  in  country  houses)  in  obtaining1  Scenery,  &c.,  to  fix  in  a  Drawing  Room, 
and  then  only  by  considerable  outlay  for  hire  and  great  damage  caused  to  walla, 
we  have  decided  to  keep  a  series  of  Scenes,  &c.,  coloured  on  strong  paper,  which 
1  oan  be  joined  together  or  pasted  on  canvas  or  wood,  according  to  requirement. 
Full  directions,  with  diagrams  shewing  exact  size  of  Back  Scenes,  Borders,  and 
Wings,  can  be  had  free  on  application.  The  following  four  soehes  each  consist* 

.  of  thirty  sheets  of  paper.  - 

!  GARDEN. 

The  above  is  an  illustration  of  this  scene.  It  is  kept  in  two  size*.  The  small 
size  would  extend  to  15  feet  wide  and  8  feet  high,  and  the  large  size  to  20  feet 
long  and  11$  feet  high.  It  is  not  necessary  to  have  the  scene  the  height  of  the 
room,  as  blue  paper  to  represent  sky  is  usually  hung  at  the  top.  Small  size,  with 
Wings  and  Border  complete,  $7.50  ;  large  size,  do.,  $10.0(X 


WOOD. 

— .  ■  ■  • 

This  is  similar  in  style  to  the  above,  only  a  wood  scene  is  introduced  in  the 
centre.  It  is  kept  in  two  sizes,  as  the  previous  soene,  and  blue  paper  can  be 
introduced  as  before  indicated.  Small  size,  with  Wings  and  Borders  com- 
plete,  $7.50  ;  largo  size,  do.,  $10.00. 

FOT  «T  A  fjVFlr — This  is  a  sheet  of  paper  on  which  foliage  is 
drawn,  which  can  be  repeated  and  cut  in  any  shape  required.  Small  size,  30  in. 

20  in.,  25  cts.  per  sheet ;  large  size,  40  in.  by  30  in.,  35  cts.  per  sheet. 


DRAWING  ROOM. 

This  scene  is  only  kept  in  the  large  size,  to  extend  to  20  feet  long  and  11$  feet 
■s  high.  In  the  centre  is  a  French  window,  leading  down  to  the  ground,  which 
•  could  be  made  practicable  if  required.  On  the  ifift  wing  rs  a  fire-place  with 
mirror  above,  and  on  the  right  wing  is  an  oil  painting.  The  whole  scene  is 
tastefully  ornamented  and  beautifully  coloured,  forming  a  most  elegant  picture. 
|  Should  a  box  scene  he  required  extra  wings  can  be  had,  consisting  of  doors  each 
!  side,  which  could  be  made  practicable.  Price,  with  Border  and  one  set  of 
I  Wings,  $10.;  with  Border  and  two  sets  of  Wings,  to  form  box  scene,  $12.50. 


COTTAGE  INTERIOR. 

1  is  is  also  kept  in  the  large  size  only.  In  the  centre  is  a  door  leading 
outside.  On  the  left  centre  is  a  rustic  fireplace,  and  the  right  centre  is  a  window. . 
On  the  wings  are  painted  shelves,  &c. ,  to  complete  the  scene.  A  box  scene  can  be 
made  by  purchasing  extra  wings,  as  before  described,  and  forming  doors  on  each 
side.  Price,  with  Border  and  one  set  of  Wings,  $10.00  ;  with  Border  and  two 
sets  of  Wings,  to  form  box  scene,  $12.50. 

The  Drawing  Room  mounted  can  be  seen  at  2b  West  23d  St.,^ 
Kew  York.  Full  directions  accompany  each  Scene. 


French’ s  (late  lacy’s)  descriptive  list. 

SCENERY. 


13  ciu  trie  mi  It  5  dramatic  UJotks, 

FORMING  THE  REPERTOIRE  OF 

MISS  AGNES  ROBERTSON 

No.  III. 


- - - 

THE  PHANTOM: 

f 


A  DRAMA,  IN  TWO  ACTS. 


BY 


Author  of  “  London  Assurance “  OAi  Heads  and  Young  Hearts ,** 
“  The  Willow  Copse,”  “  t/sed  “  Zou<?  in  a  Maze **  TAe 
7m  A  Heiress ,”  “  Andy  Blake,”  “  The  Young  Actress," 

“  7’Ac  Corsican  Brothers,”  “  TAc  Phan¬ 
tom,”  <fc. 


JKntered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  Year  One  Tborjsand  Eight  Hundred  and  Fifty-Six,  by  Dio* 
Bourcicault,  in  the  Clerk’s  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  State*,  for  the  Southern  District 
of  New  York. 


New  York: 

SAMUEL  FRENCH  &  SON, 

PUBLISHERS, 

28  WEST  23d  STREET, 


London  : 

SAMUEL  FRENCH, 

PUBLISHER, 

80,  STRAND. 


CAST  OF  THE  CHARACTERS ,  $c. 


As  Produced  at  Wallace's  Theatre ,  New  York  City. 


CHARACTERS. 

The  Phantom . 

Lord  Albert  Clavering . 

Sir  Hugh  Neville ,  of  Gray  stock 

Sir  Guy  Musgrave . 

Ralph  Gwynne . . 

Davy . 

Lucy  Peveryl . 

Ellen . 

Maude . 

Janet . 


.Mr.  Dion  Bourcicault 
.  “  J.  B.  Howe. 

.  “  Ralton. 

.  “  Etynge. 

“  Levere 
“  T.  B.  Johnstone. 
Miss  Agnes  Robertson. 
,  “  Alleyne. 

.  “  Ada  Clare. 

■  Mrs.  H.  P.  Grattan. 


Alan  Raby . 

Colonel  Raby . 

Edgar ,  (his  nephew ,) 

Dr.  Reese . 

Curate . 

Corporal  Stump 

Ada  Raby . 

Jenny . . . .  . 


Mr.  Dion  Bourcicault. 

“  Ralton. 

“  J.  B.  Howe. 

“  Burnett. 

.  “  Paul. 

“  Peters. 

.Miss  Agnes  Robertson. 
.Mrs.  L.  H.  Allen. 


Notice. — Any  manager  permitting  this  work  to  be  performed  in  bis 
theatre  without  the  written  permission  of  the  Author,  is  liable  to  a 
penalty  of  not  less  than  one  hundred  Dollars  for  each  performance — in 
conformity  with  the  new  copyright  act  for  the  protect  on  of  Dramatic 
Authors. 


P  )1  6  ^.vj 


THE  PHANTOM 


ACT  I. 

Scene  I. — Room  in  a  Welsh  Inn. 

Enter  Davy  and  Janet,  from  r.  n.,  in  flat. 

Davy.  [ Off  at  door  as  he  enters .]  Good-bye,  neighbors,  g  u'j-  bye. 

Janet.  So.  Davy,  we  are  married.  [ Down  u 

Davy.  Yes,  Pm  a  bride — a  blushing  bride — I  confess  F  feel  a  little 
nervous  ;  you  have  been  married  before — it  is  no  novelty  to  you. 

Janet.  Don’t  fear,  Davy,  you’ll  make  an  excellent  husbana  —you  have 
only  one  fault. 

Davy.  I  am  a  coward  ;  I  could  not  bear  to  be  alone  in  tb  >  dark,  bu< 
you  pointed  out  a  remedy  f  never  should  have  thought  of  “  Davy,’ 
says  you,  “marry  me  and  you’ll  never  be  alone  in  the  dark  ugain.” 

Janet.  Be  off  with  you  to  the  stable,  lock  up  all  round,  u.  id  then  we 
will  spend  our  wedding  evening  like  a  pair  of  pigeons. 

Davy.  [Aside  ]  I  don’t  know  how  it  is,  but  I  feel  a  little  nervous, 

[A  distant  peal  of  thunder 

Janet.  Hark  !  a  storm  is  coming  down  the  mountain — make  haste 
back.  Oh,  Davy,  there  is  nothing  so  delightful  as  making  tove  under 
cosy  shelter  in  a  thunder  storm. 

Davy.  Listen.  1  hear  the  clatter  of  a  horse’s  hoofs — it  can’t  be  a  cus. 
tomer.  [Runs  up. 

Janet.  A  customer?  Love  gives  way  to  duty — business  before  plea¬ 
sure  :  we  have  not  got  a  shilling  in  the  house. 

Davy.  It  is  Miss  Lucy  Peveryl,  and  quite  alone,  and  her  horse  is 
covered  with  foam  — whoa  !  ho  !  she  leaped  that  stone  wall  like  a  deer. 

Janet.  Miss  Lucy,  the  daughter  of  Col.  Peveryl,  our  landlord. 

[Music. 

Davy.  She  leaps  from  her  horse  ;  here  she  is.  This  way,  my  lady — 
this  way. 

Enter  Lucy,  r.  d. 

Lucy.  My  good  people,  I  seek  the  shelter  of  your  roof ;  a  storm  is 
coming  down  the  mountains,  and  1  rode  to  the  nearest  retug 
Davy.  Take  a  chair,  miss  : 

Lucy.  I  thank  you.  [Aside  to  Janet  ]  Send  your  husband  away. 
.Janet.  Run.  Davy,  take  the  lady's  horse  the  stable. 


i 


THE  PHANTOM. 


Davy  I’ll  give  him  the  biggest  feed  he  ever  got,  in  honor  of  my  wed¬ 
ding  day.  \_Exvty  R  d.  f.,  and  off  l. 

Lucy,  (l.)  Are  we  alone? 

Janet,  (r.)  Yes,  miss  ;  how  can  I  serve  you  1 

Lucy.  You  are  a  woman,  and  by  your  face,  I  should  say,  a  generous 
and  brave  one.  I  love  one  who  is  outlawed  and  unhappy,  a  price  is  set 
upon  his  head.  Unknown  to  my  father,  I  consented  to  meet  my  lover 
this  evening,  and  bid  him  farewell. 

Janet.  Stop  !— is  he  not  a  tall,  fair  young  man,  pale  and  sorrowful  1 

Lucy.  The  same  ;  it  is  my  cousin,  Roland  Peveryl. 

Janet.  He  slept  here  last  night,  and  not  three  hours  ago  he  went  to 
stroll  into  the  mountains. 

Lucy.  ’Tis  there  I  have  promised  to  meet  him,  at  sundown,  in  the 
ruins  of  Raby  Castle. 

Janet.  [  Terrified .]  The  ruins  of  Raby  ! 

Lucy.  You  utter  the  words  with  horror. 

Janet.  Do  you  not  know  the  fearful  story  of  that  place  ? 


Re-enter  Davy,  d.  f. 

Lucy.  Hush!  [Sits  A.  h. 

Davy,  (r.)  Oh.  Janet !  there’s  such  luck  on  our  wedding  day  ;  a 
great  cavalcade  of  nobles  and  ladies  are  riding  down  the  road  towards 
our  inn  ;  the  storm  is  rising  fast — hey  '  it’s  an  ill  wind  that  blows  no¬ 
body  any  good.  [Crosses  to  l  ,  Janet  goes  up,  r.  h. 

Lucy.  Strangers  !  [She  covers  her  face  icilh  her  veil. 

Davy.  Here  thy  come. 


Music. —  Enter  Lord  Clavering,  Nevil  of  Greystock,  Ralph 
Gwynne,  Sir  Guy  Musgrave,  Ellen,  Maude,  &c.,  o.  d. 


Lord  C.  Just  escaped  !  So,  hostess,  I  fear  that  we  are  besieged  for 
the  night  Can  you  give  us  room  1 

Janet.  I’ll  do  my  best,  but  it  will  be  a  tight  fit ,  the  two  rooms,  up¬ 
stairs,  will  suit  the  ladies.  This  room  will,  perhaps,  do,  your  noble 
lordships  ;  your  followers  can  have  the  lofts — my  husband  can  sleep  in 
the  stable 

Davy.  [Coming  down ,  r.]  On  my  wedding  night !  I  can’t  sleep 
with  the  horses. 

Janet.  Silence,  you  fool !  Business  before  pleasure.  [Davy  goes  up. 

Lord  C.  But  this  lady.  [Bows  and  crosses  to  Lucy.]  I  hope  we  do 
not  incommode  her. 

Janet.  No,  my  lord,  she  is  going. 

Lucy.  [Rising,  and  withdrawing  her  veil.]  Lord  Clavering  !  [Crosses 


to  c. 

Lord  C.  Miss  Lucy  Peveryl ! 

Maud.  )  ,  . 

Ellen.  lLucy! 

Lucy.  My  friends,  heaven  sent  you  at  this  moment  to  aid  me. 

Lord  C.  Command  us. 

Lucy.  My  cousin  Roland,  my  betrothed,  is  a  fugitive  ;  I  dare  not  tell 
my  father  that,  for  days  he  has  been  concealed  in  this  neighborhood, 
seeking  an  occasion  to  bid  me  farewell,  ere  he  left  England  forever. 


THE  PHANTOM. 


0 


Lord  C.  Not  forever,  lady.  The  followers  of  Cromwell  are  out-lawed, 
but  King  Charles  the  Second  is  a  gentle  prince,  and  will  forgive. 

Lucy.  Heaven  grant  it  !  Now,  gentlemen,  to  your  honor  I  confide 
his  life.  He  awaits  me  in  the  ruins  of  Raby  ; — who  will  escort  me 
there  1 

Maud.  All  ! — and  we  too.  dear  Lucy,  f) r  it  must  not  be  said  that  the 
daughter  of  Colonel  Peveryl  met  her  lovrr  in  solitude 

Lord  C.  Why  should  we  not  pass  the  night  there  1 — there  is  still 
shelter  in  the  ruined  chambers. 

Sir  G.  [r.  corner  ]  Ay, — why  should  we  not  take  up  provisions  and 
wine,  and  make  a  night  of  it  \ 

Davy.  [ Down  c  ]  I  will  tell  you  ;  because  no  one  ever  sought  a 
night’s  shelter  in  the  ruins  of  Raby  Castle,  that  ever  lived  to  see  the 
morning. 

All.  How! 

Janet.  [Down  r.]  It  is  true. 

Davy.  A  terrible  mystery  dwells  there. 

.Nevil.  It  is  a  den  of  robbers. 

Davy.  No ; — the  pallid  bodies  that  have  been  found  there,  were  not 
murdered  for  their  gold. 

Sir  G.  Murdered  ! 

Davy.  Listen,  gentlemen  ; — within  the  ruins  of  Raby  dwells  some 
terrible  thing — man  or  fiend  !  [Thunder.]  Oh,  Lord  ! 

Lord  C.  Speak  out,  man. 

Davy.  No  traveller  that  knows  the  road  will  ever  venture  near  that 
spot  after  nightfall  ;  but  strange  wayfarers,  benighted  in  the  storm, 
have  wandered  to  its  fatal  shelter,  and  the  next  morning  they  are 
found - 

Lord  C.  Dead  I 

Davy.  Each  with  a  wound  in  his  throat  in  the  right  side,  from  which 
they  have  evidently  bled  to  death  : — but  no  blood  is  spilt  around,  the 
face  is  white  and  fixed,  as  if  it  had  died  of  horror.  [ Thunder . 

Lucy.  And  he,  my  betrothed,  Roland  is  there. 

Lord  C.  Can  you  lend  credence  to  such  a  story  I 

Lucy.  I  know  not ; — but  a  feeling  of  terror  creeps  over  me. 

Sir  G.  So  it  does  over  me. 

Lord  C.  What  say  you,  gentlemen,  does  not  this  story  prick  your 
curiosity  1 

Maud.  It  will  be  delightful  ;  the  gentlemen  can  sit  up  and  guard  us, 
— quite  romantic  !  A  haunted  castle  ! 

Sir  G.  It  wiil  be  like  sleeping  in  a  stable  full  of  nightmares. 

Lucy.  Let  us  not  delay — the  storm  still  holds  off. 

Nevil.  But  who  is  to  guide  us  to  the  spot  1 

Janet.  Here’s  my  husband,  will  do  it  gladly. 

Davy.  Me  !  Do  you  want  me  to  get  my  throat  cut  on  my  wedding 
night  1 

Janet.  You  fool  !  did  you  not  hear  that  they  will  take  up  a  stock  of 
provisions  ;  we  shall  make  a  guinea  by  it  at  least. 

Davy.  And  you’ll  be  made  a  widow  at  least. 

Lord  C.  Come,  Davy,  there’s  five  guineas  for  your  guidance 


(i 


THE  PHANTOM. 


Janet  [Takes  the  money .J  Thank  you,  my  lord  ;  I'd  be  made  a 
widow  of  every  day  for  half  the  money. 

[Exeunt  all  the  party,  r.  d.  f. — Music. 

Davy.  I  shan't  go.  [Sits  r.]  Not  all  the  money  in  Wales  could 
tempt  me  to  approach  the  ruins  after  nightfall. 

Janet.  Davy,  I  must  cure  you  of  cowardice.  You  will  take  up  these 
baskets  of  provisions,  and  return  to  my  arms  like  a  hero. 

Davy.  Like  a  ghost,  you  mean. 

Janet.  I  shall  love  you  to  distraction  for  the  dangers  you  run. 

Davy.  Yes — I  would  run  like  the  devil. 

Nevil.  [Looks  in  at  r.  d.  f.]  Come,  Mr.  Landlord,  we  are  waiting  for 
you  to  guide  us.  [Disappears. 

Janet.  He  is  coming,  my  lord.  Now,  Davy,  take  these  baskets 

Davy.  I  shan’t. 

Janet.  You  won’t  ! — Davy,  do  you  know  how  I  answered  my  late 
dear  departed  husband  when  he  said  “  I  won’t  1  ” 

Davy,  No,  and  I  don’t  care. 

Janet.  [Pulling  a  stick  out  of  a  broom.]  Here  was  my  system  !  I’m  a 
woman  of  few  words  and  no  nonsense. 

Davy.  On  my  wedding  night. 

Janet.  After  any  little  dispute  I  laid  him  up  for  a  week.  I  cabled  it 
gout,  but  it  was  broomstick. 

Davy.  I’m  going.  Oh,  when  I  consented  to  become  a  bride,  I  had 
my  fears,  but  I  never  contemplated  such  a  nuptial  proceeding  as  this. 

[Exit  d.  in  f.  with  baskets. 


Scene  II.  A  rocky  path  in  Snowdon  leading  to  Baby  Castle.  Stage 

one  half  dark. 

Enter  Lord  Clavering  and  Lucy,  l.  h. 

Lord  C.  The  road  is  steep  ;  lean  upon  my  arm,  lady.  [Lightning . 

Lucy.  See — yonder  are  the  ruins — 1  saw  them  by  that  flash  of  light¬ 
ning. 

Lord  C.  The  storm  holds  off — shall  we  not  rest  awhile  ? 

Lucy.  No,  I  will  rest  only  in  Roland  s  arms  ;  he  awaits  me  there,  let 
us  on. 

Lord  C.  [Crossing  to  a.]  See,  already  some  of  our  party  have  gained 
the  castle,  their  torches  light  up  the  battlements. 

Lucy  Then  he  knows  that  I  am  coming.  Dear,  dear  Roland,  at  least 
he  shall  bear  away  with  him  the  assurance  of  my  unalterable  love. 

Lord  C.  You  are  a  noble  and  daring  girl,  Miss  Peveryl,  and  I  would 
give  one  half  my  life,  if  I  could  find  such  a  heart  as  yours  to  render  the 
other  half  proud  and  happy.  [Exeunt,  r.  h. 

Enter  Sir  Guy  and  Davy,  l.  h. 

Davy.  ]  have  lost  my  way.  let  us  turn  back  ;  the  storm  will  reach  us 
ere  we  gain  the  ruins.  I  don't  like  this  expedition.  I  wish  I  had  re* 
uiai^d  behind 

A'alph.  [Outside,  r.]  Hillo  ! 


THE  PHANTOM. 


/ 

Sir  G.  See.  there  is  Ralph  Gwynne  or.  yonder  rock  ;  ah,  they  have 
found  the  castle. 

J)avy.  That’s  right,  then  you  don’t  need  me  any  more.  I  w  sh  you  a 
very  good  night ;  I’ll  come  up  and  bury  you  in  the  morning. 

Enter  Nevil,  l.  h. 

Nevil.  Quick — on  to  the  ruins — what  is  the  matter  7 

Sir  G.  The  rain  has  come  down  on  the  mountain,  the  torrent  has 
swollen  its  banks  and  the  bridge  was  carried  away  almost  under  my 
feet. 

Davy.  The  bridge  gone !  then  how  am  I  to  get  home  on  my  wedding 
night 7 

Nivil.  You  must  pass  it  along  with  us  in  Raby  Castle — I  am  sorry 
for  the  charming  maiden,  your  bride. 

Davy.  No,  I’m  the  charming  maiden  in  this  case,  she  was  married 
before. 

Sir  G.  I  wish  I  had  remained  behind! 

Ralph.  [Outside.]  Hillo  ! 

Maud.  [  Outside.]  Hillo  ! ! 

Nevil.  [Crossing  to  r.  h.]  See,  they  have  gained  the  castle,  I  see 
their  torches  flashing  through  the  ruins.  [  Thunder  and  lightning .]  And 
here  comes  the  storm.  Quick,  away.  [Exit  Nevil  and  Sir  Guv,  r.  h. 

Davy.  Here’s  a  delightful  night !  My  married  life  presents  to  my 
bewildered  gaze  a  perfect  forest  of  broomsticks,  and  I  have  the  pleasant 
prospect  of  getting  my  throat  cut  on  my  wedding  night — I  might  as 
well  have  married  Blue  Beard  !  [Exit  r.  h.,  1  e. 

Scene  III.  The  ruins  of  Raby  Castle — The  Chapel — C.  arch — Set 

doors ,  r.  and  l.  h. — A  hat  and  rapier  leans  against  Flat ,  l.  h. — 

Table  and  benches  r.  h. 

Entci  Ralph  Gwynne,  holding  a  torch ;  he  ascends  the  stairway  at  back. 

Ralph.  Hillo  !  this  way  !  follow  me  ! 

Nevil,  Sir  Guy,  Maud  and  Ellen  ascend  stair  and  advance. 

Nevil.  Bravo  !  this  chamber  will  serve  us  for  a  supper  room — the 
roof  is  good. 

Maud.  Where  is  Lord  Clavering7 

Lord  C.  [  Without.]  Hillo  ! 

Ellen.  Here  he  comes. 

Enter  Lord  Clavering  and  Lucy. 

Lord  C.  What  a  strange  place  ! 

Lucy.  Where  is  he — where  is  Roland  ? 

Ralph.  We  have  searched  the  ruins  in  every  part,  except  this  floor. 

Lucy.  He  is  not  here. 

Nevil.  [Looking  in  l.  h.  chamber .]  Here  is  a  room — how  dismal ! — 
There  goes  an  old  owl  out  at  the  window. 

Ralph.  [Looking  in  r.  h.  chamber.]  This  is  a  bed-chamber,  yonder  10 
*  gloomy  looking  couch. 


I 


8 


THE  PHANTOM. 


Sir  G.  Hollo!  what’s  here  ?  Somebody  has  recently  occupied  thi* 
room,  here  is  a  hat  and  rapier. 

Lord  C.  Ha  !  let  me  see  them. 

Lucy.  ’Tis  Roland’s  sword  ! — see,  there  is  his  cypher  on  the  hilt. 

Lord  C.  Then  calm  your  fears — he  cannot  be  far.  ^ou  see  he  has 
gained  the  castle,  he  is  sheltering  somewhere  in  its  vast  ruins. 

Lucy.  Pardon  me.  but  I  feel  a  presentiment  of  some  terrible  calamity; 
it  weighs  upon  my  heart,  as  it  some  evil  had  befallen  him  ! 

[Lucy  and  Lord  C.  go  up  to  window  Flat.  The  servants  lay  the 
table.  R.  H 

Sir  G.  What  a  dismal  hole  ! 

Ellen.  It  is  not  romantic. 

Nevil.  Where  is  the  supper  ?  Where's  Davy  ? 

Enter  Davy,  c.,  very  pale ,  with  baskets. 

Davy.  Here  I  am  in  a  cold  perspiration — I  am  sure  my  hair  must  be 
turning  gray — my  heart  feels  like  a  jelly  ! 

Nevil.  Here — give  us  the  supper. 

Davy.  Take  it,  and  let  me  say  my  prayers  before  Pm  murdered. 

Lord  C.  [  Waving  a  torch  ]  Roland  !  Roland  ! 

Davy.  Lord  ! — what's  that  1 

Ralph.  Fool !  it’s  only  Lord  Albert  calling  from  the  balcony  for  young 
Roland  Peveryl. 

Davy.  1  thought  it  was  the  devil  calling  for  me. 

Lucy.  Roland !  Roland  ! 

Nevil.  There !  all  is  ready.  Come,  Lord  Albert. 

Lord  C.  [Advancing  ]  Fear  not,  dear  lady,  your  betrothed  hath  wan* 
dered  from  the  path,  and  is  sheltered  in  some  mountain  cave. 

Ellen.  The  storm  is  passing,  he  will  soon  be  here. 

Lucy.  No,  no,  a  feeling  of  terror  clings  to  my  heart,  but  do  not  let 
me  detain  you  from  supper  or  spoil  your  festivities. 

Lord  C.  Will  you  not  join  us  ? 

Lucy.  Oh  !  pardon  me,  1  cannot. 

Lord  C.  Away  then ;  Davy,  guide  our  servants  to  the  rooms  above, 
and  prepare  some  shelter  where  the  ladies  may  sleep. 

Davy.  Sleep  !  Oh,  Lord  !  what  strong  mindfd  women  they  must  be, 
who  could  sleep  in  the  ruins  of  Raby  Castle. 

[ Exit  with  servants,  c.  and  off,  L.  H. 

Nevil.  And  while  we  sup  let  one  of  our  party  mount  guard  upon  yon¬ 
der  stairway.  I  will  take  the  post  as  sentinel.  [ Stands  c.  at  back. 

Lord  C.  Come,  ladies,  bumpers — why,  Musjjrave,  you  look  pale,  you 
actually  tremble — have  you  caught  the  fears  of  that  booby  ? 

Sn  G.  N-no  ! — only  caught  a  cold  in  my  head. 

Lord  C.  Our  adventure  to-night  reminds  me  of  a  strange  story  at* 
tached  to  a  ruined  castle  in  Germany. 

All.  Let  us  hear  it. 

Lord  C.  It  is  a  ghost  story,  ladies,  and  a  fearful  one,  I  promise  you ; 
fill  and  listen.  It  is  now  three  years  ago  that  while  travelling  in  Bohe¬ 
mia  I  passed  just  such  a  night  as  this  in  the  ruins  of  an  old  feudal  cas* 
*Je,  which  had  the  reputation  of  being  haunted. 


THE  PHANTOM. 


0 


Ra'ph.  By  the  murdered  bride  of  some  rascally  old  btron  ! 

Lord  G  No — by  a  strange  being,  whom  they  call  a  vampire. 

All.  A  vampire  ! 

Lord  C.  Aye — the  peasantry  of  the  neighborhood  declared  that  a 
phantom  of  this  kind  inhabited  the  ruin,  and  fed  upon  the  benighted 
travellers  who  sought  shelter  there. 

Sir  G  What  the  devil  was  it  like  1 

Lord  C.  It  was  a  human  being,  who  had  died  some  fifty  years  before, 
but  who  had  made  a  compact  with  the  fiend  to  revive  him  after  death. 
By  some  terrible  means  a  false  life  was  instilled  into  the  corpse,  which 
moves  and  speaks,  but  no  warm  blood  circulated  in  the  monster's  veins, 
all  within  was  still  as  death. 

Ncvil.  [  Up  at  c.  d.]  But  on  what  does  he  live  1 

Lord  C.  On  human  blood  !  Upon  the  lives  of  others,  he  recruits 
his  terrible  existence. 

Lucy.  He  c6mes  not — oh  !  Roland,  my  heart  is  sick  with  fear. 

[  Music. 

Sir  G.  Give  me  a  bumper  of  Burgundy. 

Ralph.  What  a  dreadful  story  ! — Can  it  be  true  1 

Lord  C.  True! — Impossible!  —  It  is  but  the  creation  of  a  diseased 
brain. 

Ncvil.  Alert ! — I  see  a  dark  figure  moving  amongst  the  ruins  below. 

Lord  C.  It  may  be  Roland  ! 

Lucy.  Roland ! 

Nevil.  As  the  flashes  of  the  lightning  gleam  upon  him,  he  seems  by 
his  garb  to  be  a  Puritan  !  He  mounts  the  ruined  stair! 

Lord  C.  To  arms,  gentlemen  !  [Nevil  advances  down. 

Enter  Alan  Raby,  c.  d. 

Lord  C.  Who  art  thou  ? 

Alan.  I  am  a  stranger,  benighted  in  the  storm.  I  heard  that  a  noble 
company  had  sought  shelter  here — I  come  to  claim  your  hospitality. 

All.  A  Puritan  ! 

Alan.  Aye,  a  Puritan — one  who  has  been  your  foe.  [ Thunder  and 
lightning ].  But  on  a  night  like  this,  may  we  not  be  at  peace  1 

Lord  0.  You  are  welcome,  sir.  [Alan  advances. 

Sir  G.  What  a  strange  figure  !  [ Gets  to  l.  H. 

Nevil.  (l.  c  )  Do  you  remark  the  unnatural  pallor  of  his  ccunten- 
ance ! 

Lord  C.  May  we  ask  whom  we  have  the  honor  to  entertain  1 

Alan.  My  name  is  Gervase  Roodwook,  a  poor  gentleman,  nnd  a 
stranger  to  these  mountains — in  the  darkness  of  the  storm,  I  lost  the 
path,  and  thus  became  a  suppliant  to  your  courtesy. 

Lord  C.  We  have  just  supped,  sir — I  pray  you  be  seated.  I  will 
hold  you  company.  [Re-enter  Davy,  c.]  Ha  !  Davy,  kindle  a  fire — take 
our  guest’s  cloak  and  bat  and  dry  them 

Davy.  Yes,  my  Lord.  I  tremble  in  every  limb  at  every  turn  in  tlys 
infernal  castle.  I  expect  to  find  myself  face  to  face  with  the  spectre— 
with  the — the — the — oh,  Lord  ! 

[  As  he  takes  Alan's  cloak,  and  as  Alan  hands  his  hat ,  Davy  catches 
a  glimpse  of  his  face  and  staggers  hack. 


10 


THE  PHANTOM. 


Sir  G  (l.  h.)  What's  the  matter  ! 

Davy.  (l.  c.)  Sir — sir — do  you  know— this  -gentleman  ! 

Sir  G.  No— do  you  ! 

Davy.  N— no — that  is — yes — I — I — oh,  it  cannot  be  ! - 

Nevil.  (l.  corner.)  What  do  you  mean  ? 

Davy  [Looking  at  Alan.]  Ten  years  ago  the  Lord  of  this  castle.  Sir 
Alan  Raby,  was  slain  in  this  very  room.  I  saw  him  once  when  I  was 
i  child,  and  he— he  was  exactly  like - 

Sir  G.  Who  1 

Davy.  [ Recoiling .]  N — n  —  nobody  ! 

L,urd  C.  Pardon  this  fellow,  sir  ;  his  terror  drives  him  crazy.  This 
castle,  ten  years  ago,  was  the  scene  of  an  unnatural  murder.  It  be¬ 
longed  to  Owen  Raby,  a  noble  cavalier,  who  fought  bravely  for  King 
Charles,  while  Alan  Ilaby,  his  younger  brother,  espoused  the  cause  of 
Cromwell,  and  became  a  Puritan. 

Davy.  [  Watching  Alan.]  I  saw  him  once  :  I  remember  his  black 
plume  and  cloak — not  blacker  than  his  heart — his  bible  hanging  by 
chains  from  his  belt,  and  his  sword  in  his  gripe. 

Lord  C.  Since  the  murder  of  Owen  Raby  by  his  brother,  and  the 
subsequent  destruction  of  the  castle  by  our  troops,  the  peasantry 
imagine  that  the  place  is  haunted. 

Davy.  Yes,  by  the  ghost  of  the  murderer,  who  pursues  his  business 
upon  all  who  seek  shelter  hqre.  |  Grosses  to  l.  h. 

Lucy.  [Rising — goes  to  Albert,  c.]  My  Lord,  pardon  my  impor¬ 
tunity,  but  a  shapeless  terror  haunts  me — the  presence  of  this  stranger 
appals  me — his  gaze  chills  my  heart. 

Lord  C.  Do  not  fear,  you  are  safe  with  us.  Come,  be  advised  ;  take 
some  refreshment,  you  are  weak. 

Nevil.  Come,  Davy,  relate  to  us  the  particulars  of  the  murder. 

Davy.  I  dare  say  this  gentleman  knows  all  about  it.  [Asic/e.]  If  I 
could  hear  him  speak.  I  think  I  could  recognise  Alan  Raby’s  voice. 

Lord  C.  It  is  now  ten  years  ago  since  the  deed  was  done  At  mid¬ 
night  the  castle  was  surprised  by  a  party  of  Puritans,  headed  by  the 
younger  brother,  the  sleeping  garrison  were  butchered - 

Davy.  Jn  yonder  chamber  Sir  Owen  Raby  slept.  [Points  L.]  The 
mark  of  his  blood  is  still  upon  the  floor  where  he  fell,  run  through  the 
heart  by  his  brother  Alan. 

Sir  G.  But  the  murderer  met  his  doom  ! 

Lord  C.  One  year  afterward  the  castle  was  attacked  and  stormed  by 
the  Royalist  forces,  and  the  fratricide  was  taken. 

Davy.  Yes.  in  this  very  room,  they  seized  him  by  the  neck  and 
hurled  him  headlong  from  yonder  window. 

Nevil.  There  is  a  precipice  beneath  of  untold  depth. 

Davy.  Then  they  set  tire  to  the  castle  and  blew  up  the  ba‘tlements. 
The  next  day  a  search  was  made  for  Alan  Raby's  body  on  \he  rocks 
beneath,  but  no  trace  of  it  could  be  found. 

Lord  C.  Let  us  thank  heaven  that  the  civil  war  is  endt !,  which 
arrayed  brother  against  brother,  and  father  against  son. 

Alan.  Amen  to  that  prayer  ! 


THE  PHANTOM. 


11 


Diivx  Eh  !  [Recoils  in  terror.]  Oh!  that  voice  !  Falls  on  his  knee*.} 
Oh,  sii  -we’re  all  dead  men  ! 

Lord  C.  What  do  you  mean  r 

Davy.  Take  my  advice,  sir,  throw  him  out  of  yonder  window — do, 
sir  ! 

Lord  C.  Are  you  mad,  fellow  1 

Davy.  He  is  used  to  it.  sir. 

Lord  C.  Be  silent,  fool !  [ Enter  four  servants  with  torches,  c.]  Come, 
ladies,  I  see  that  your  place  of  rest  for  the  night  is  prepared — Miss 
Peveryl,  you  will  occupy  yonder  apartment.  [ Points  r.]  Gentlemen, 
the  apartment  beneath  is  at  your  service.  I  will  remain  in  this  room 
and  keep  watch,  for  although  I  do  not  believe  in  ghosts,  I  have  a  sound 
suspicion  of  robbers — so,  good  night,  and  pleasant  dreams  to  all. 


[Music. — Exeunt  all  c.  d.,  Lucy  r.  h. 

Now,  Davy,  leave  me,  I  would  pass  the  night  alone.  [Points  l.  h.] 
There  is  the  chamber  yonder  where  you  can  sleep. 

Davy.  That  is  Alan  Raby's  bed-room  ! 

Lord  C.  Nonsense — I  am  weary  of  this  folly — leave  me.  r.  h. 

Davy.  Yes,  my  lord — I — I — am  going. 

[  Goes  towards  the  door — returns. 

Did  your  lordship  call  ? 

Lord  C.  No — begone  ! 

Davy.  Yes — I  am — I — [ Goes  to  the  room,  and  pushes  open  the  door.] 
Lord  1  how  dark  it  is— I  beg  pardon,  but  you  have  not  about  you  a 
morsel  of  candle — 

Lord  C  Away,  I  tell  you — the  moon  will  shortly  rise,  and  you  will 
have  light  enough. 

Davy  I  am  going — [In  his  absence  of  mind  he  takes  up  the  candle .] 
Goodnight  ! — [LordC.  wrests  candle  from  him]  Exactly — I  beg  par¬ 
don — I — feel  I  —I’m  going — good  night  ! 

Lord  C  Good  night,  Davy,  good  night  ! 

Davy.  [Goes,  looks  in  and  n turns.]  I  forgot  to  say — good  night. 

Lord  C.  Will  you  leave  me  1 

Davy.  Yes,  my  lord — don’t  you  see — I  am  leaving  you — I — ho  !  ho  ! 

[  Sings, 


“  Of  all  the  birds  that  sing  so  sweet, 
When  of  an  eventide, 

Upon  the  hawthorn  bough  they  meet, 
To  carol  side  by  side  !” 


[Sings  very  loud  as  he  enters  the  chamber,  to  give  himself  courage.  Mu • 
sic — a  pause — Davy  is  heard  to  utter  a  shout  from  the  chamber ,  l.  h. 
Lord  C.  starts  up — Davy  runs  in,  his  hair  on  end  with  terro" — he  falls 
on  his  knees,  and  clutches  Lord  C.’s  arm. 


Lord  C.  How  now  1 
Davy.  There — there — 

Lord  C.  What — speak  ! 

Davy.  Somebody — 

Lord  C.  Some  one  in  yonder  chamber 1  [Davy  nods.]  Impossible  ! 


12 


THE  PHANTOM. 


Davy.  Some  one  on  the  ground,  I  tell  you.  I  was  searching  for  a 
soft  place  to  lie  me  down — I  found  what  seemed  to  be  a  heap  of 
clothes  ;  scarce  had  I  settled  myself  to  sleep  upon  it,  when  I  found 
my  pillow  was  a  human  corse. 

Lord  C.  If  this  alarm  be  but  the  creation  of  your  brain  I  will  cut 
vour  coward  ears  otF.  [  Lukes  candle  and  goes  mlo  chamber ,  l.  h. 

Davy.'YW  take  to  my  heels,  while  I  have  a  whole  skin — here’s  a 
wedding  night !  [Exit,  c.  D 

Re-enter  1,4  rd  C  ,  pale  and  horror-struck 

Lord  C  Horror  !  ’tis  true — a  murderous  deed  has  been  hastily  done. 
Here  lies  young  Roland  Peveryl  dead,  a  wound  deep  in  his  throat,  but 
bloodless,  and  there  he  lay  while  we  were  feasting  here,  and  she,  too, 
wretched  girl,  whose  fears  I  derided,  she  sleeps,  sleeps  there,  while 
here  her  lover  lies  a  corse — no,  it  must  not  be — she  shall  quit  this  fata  I 
place.  [ A  prolonged  cry  is  heard  within  Lucy’s  room.]  That  cry  !  It 
is  her  voice  !  [Another  cry . 

Lucy.  [  Within.]  Help  me — help — 

Lord  C.  Perdition  !  she  is  not  alone  ! 

[ Throws  down  the  candle ,  it  is  extinguished.  Stage  dark.  Enter  Lucy 
fro'rn  her  chamber — her  hands  clasp  her  neck ,  as  she  reels  forward. 

Lucy  !  Lucy ! 

Lucy.  Help  me — murd —  [ Falls  dead  in  the  arms  of  Lord  C. 

Lord  C.  Murdered  ! 

[Sir  Alan  Raby  enters  from  Lucy’s  room  feSling  his  way  in  the  dark. 
Ha  !  a  form  steals  from  her  chamber  I 

[ Draws  a  pistol  and  fires  at  Alan  Raby,  who  utters  a  cry ,  and  reeling 
forward,  falls  across  the  Table. 

Enter  Ralph,  Sir  Gut,  Sir  Hugh  Neville,  Ellen  and  Maude, 
also  Servants,  all  with  Torches. — Lisrht  Slave. 

o  o 

Lord  C.  Rookwood  ! 

Alan.  What  have  you  donel  I  heard  a  cry,  a  cry  for  help — it  came 
from  a  chamber  next  to  that  in  which  I  slept ;  I  burst  the  door  of  com¬ 
munication,  and  entered  only  in  time  to  see  the  murderer  escape — 
he  fled  by  the  window.  I  hurried  hither  to  obtain  assistance  when — 
Ah  !• - 

Lord  C.  I  have  murdered  him  ! 

[Ellen  and  Maud  tend  Lucy. — Group,  l.  h. 
Alan.  Aye,  I  die  by  your  hand  ! 

Lord  C.  Forgive  me,  sir,  oh,  forgive  me  !  Let  not  your  blood  lie 
upon  my  soul— for  I  am  innocent  of  murder.  [Kneels  at  Alan’s  feet. 
Alan.  Stand  apart. 

Lord  C.  Away  1  [ They  all  retreat 

Alan.  On  one  condition,  I  will  forgive  thee — one. 

Lord  C.  Name  it 

Alan.  By  the  tenets  of  the  religious  sect,  whose  faith  I  rigidly  pro¬ 
fess,  the  dead  must  be  consigned  unto  the  grave  with  an  especial 
ceremony,  t 


THE  PHANTOM. 


13 


Lord.  C.  I  will  perform  it !  Speak  ! 

Alan.  When  I  have  breathed  my  last  let  my  body  be  conveyed 
amongst  the  peaks  of  Snowdon,  and  there  exposed  to  the  first  rays  of 
the  rising  moon,  which  touch  the  earth. 

Lord  0.  It  shall  be  done.  I  swear  it. 

Alan.  Enough  !  I  accept  the  oath  !  [Dies. 

[Lord  Clavering  buries  his  face  in  his  hands. — Picture. 


Scene  IV.  —  The  Rocky  Pass ,  the  same  as  in  Scene  II. 

Enter  Davy,  k.  h. 

Davy.  Oh,  Lord — I  have  escaped  from  that  horrible  castle — I 
tumbled  down  stairs,  scrambled  over  rocks,  rolled  over  precipices,  and 
here  I  am.  Oh,  here’s  a  bridal  night  !  here’s  nuptial  bliss  1  Oh, 
what  would  I  give  to  be  at  home,  in  bed — beside  broomsticks,  with  my 
head  under  the  clothes. 

Enter  Sir  Hugh  Neville  and  Maude,  r.  h. 

Nevil.  Who’s  there  1 

Davy.  [ Falling  on  his  knees.~\  Ah,  he’s  after  me,  I’m  a  dead  man  ! 

Nevil.  Rise,  you  fool,  and  conduct  us  to  the  village. 

Davy.  Eh  1  how  you  frightened  me — I  thought  it  was  the  devil. 

Enter  Sir  Guy  Musgrave,  Ellen,  and  Ralph  Gwynne,  r.  h. 

Nevil.  Where  is  Lord  Albert  1 

Sir  G.  We  left  him  in  the  ruins — he  said  that  he  would  guard  the 
body  of  the  unfortunate  puritan,  until  morning. 

Ellen.  Oh,  I  am  sick  with  fright  !  Let  us  on  to  the  village  ;  my 
heart  is  faint  with  terror. 

Nevil.  It  has,  indeed,  been  a  night  of  terror  to  us  all. 

Davy.  Look  !  [ Points  off,  r.  h  ]  See — on  yonder  mountain  path — 

see - 

Nevil.  It  seems  like  the  figure  of  a  man,  struggling  upwards  to  the 
peaks  of  Snowdon. 

Ral/ph.  He  bears  some  dark  burthen  in  his  arms. 

Davy.  ’Tis  Lord  Albert  with  the  body  of  the  Puritan. 

Ellen.  What  can  be  his  purpose  1 

Sir  G.  To  pitch  him  over  into  some  chasm  of  the  mountain. 

Davy.  No  ; — the  grave  has  never  yet  been  dug  deep  enough  to  hold 
Alan  Raby  ! 

Nevil.  This  fellow  is  mad  with  fear.  Come,  let  us  proceed  to  the 
village. 

Davy.  Follow  me — the  road  is  dangerous  ;  one  false  step,  and  you 
roll  down  a  thousand  feet  into  the  abyss. 

Sir  G.  The  moon  is  rising,  and  we  soon  shall  have  ligl  t  enough. 

Davy.  This  way.  [Exeunt,  l.  h 


14 


THE  PHANTOM. 


Scene  V. — The  Teaks  of  Snowdon. — No  vegetation  whatever  is  visible , 
but  a  sinister,  tender ,  bluish  light  gives  a  desolate  character  to  the  scene. 
—  On  a  ledge  of  rock,  half  scene  high,  Lord  Clave  ring  is  discovered , 
with  the  body  of  Alan  Raby  in  his  arms. — Music  — He  lays  down  the 
body  on  the  ledge  of  rock,  and  then  descends  a  winding  goat  track. 

Lord  C.  I  have  redeemed  my  oath  1  Oh,  let  me  hasten  from  this 
unearthly  spot — this  death-like  solitude  !  [Disappears  off,  r. 

[  A  pause.  The  moonlight  is  seen  to  tip  the  highest  peaks  and  creeps 
down  the  mountain  side  ;  it  arrives  at  the  ledge,  and  bathes  the  body 
of  Alan  Raby  ia  a  bright  white  light. — After  a  moment  his  chest 
begins  to  heave  and  his  limbs  to  quiver,  he  raises  his  aim  to  his 
heart,  and  then,  revived  completely,  rises  to  his  full  height. 

Alan.  [Addressing  the  Moon. j  Fountain  of  my  life  !  once  m>re  thy 
rays  restore  me.  Death  ! — I  defy  thee  1 

END  OF  ACT  I. 


ACT  II. 

Scene  I. — Hall  in  Raby  Castle. 

Enter  Corporal  Stump,  d.  f. 

Stump.  Hollo! — house — here — house!  Is  there  nobody  in  th: 
hotel  ?  Come  in,  Colonel  Raby. 

Enter  Col.  Raby  and  Edgar,  c.  d. 

Col.  (c.)  The  hotel  seems  to  be  deserted — can  we  find  horses  to  carry 
us  up  the  mountain  ?  * 

Edgar.  My  dear  Colonel,  I  know  a  goat  track,  that  crosses  the  rocks, 
where  often,  when  a  boy,  I  descended  from  Raby  Castle  to  this  spot. 
Let  us  proceed  on  foot,  and  give  old  Dr.  Rees  a  surprise. 

Col.  Yes,  you  cunning  dog — and  steal  a  march  upon  Ada,  also. 

Edgar.  My  heart  bounds  like  a  deer  in  my  breast,  and  I  long  to 
c/asp  my  dearest  love,  my  betrothed,  in  my  arms — go  on,  Colonel. 

Stump.  I  will  see  to  the  luggage  and  bring  it  after  you  to  the 
jastle.  / 

Col.  Here  is  a  letter  to  the  curate  of  the  village.  Let  all  the  tenants, 
with  their  families,  assemble  to-night  in  the  halls  of  Raby  Castle.  Then 
Ada  Raby  shall  receive  from  me  the  hand  of  the  man  whom  her  heart 
has  chosen. 

Edgar.  My  dear  uncle !  [Embracing  him .]  How  can  I  express  my 
gratitude  1 

Col.  Try  and  walk  it  off.  Exercise  subdues  every  emotion.  Come, 
I  am  ready  to  back  my  case — hardened  legs  against  your  young  limbs 
’  even  although  winged  with  love.  Let  us  ascend  the  mountain  track. 

[Exit  Edgar,  o.  d. 

Stump.  Take  care  Mr.  Edgar — your  wound  is  scarcely  healed — the 
exertion -  J 

Col.  I  forgot  that.  So — egad  1  the  young  rascal  is  off  like  a  stag 

[Exit  Col  Raby,  o.  d. 


THE  PHAiNTOM. 


15 


Stump.  There  they  go.  v  Two  fine,  brave,  and  noble  fellows  as  ever 
fought.  But  where's  Jenny  1  My  heart,  also,  bounds  like  a  dumpling 
ii.  a  pot,  and  I  long  to  clasp  something  or  other. 


Enter  Jenny,  l.  h.  1  e. 


Jenny.  A  soldier  ! 

Stump.  Jenny  ! ! 

Jenny.  What — Joe!  Joe  Stump!  [They  embrace. 

Stump.  How  can  I  express  my  gratitude  !  [Ais-ses  Aer.]  Exercise 
subdues  the  emotions. 

Jenny.  Law  !  what  a  fine,  handsome  fellow  you  have  grown,  to  be  sure! 

Stump.  Ain’t  I  ?  Five  foot  four,  in  my  boots. 

Jenny  Every  day,  since  you  left  ipe,  five  years  ago,  I  have  gone  up 
to  the  castle,  to  hear  if  Miss  Ada  or  Dr  Rees  had  heard  from  the  wars  ; 
and  Miss  Ada  used  to  tear  me  off’ a  bit  of  Mr.  Edgar’s  letters,  when  he 
spoke  of  you,  and  give  it  me. 

Stump.  What  for  1  You  don’t  know  how  to  read. 

Jenny.  No  !  But  it  was  something  to  look  at  and  cry  over,  and  put 
under  my  pillow  at  night. 

Stump.  Hollo  !  I  must  not  stand  gossiping  here.  Mr.  Edgar  is  to  be 
married  to  Miss  Ada  to-night.  Here’s  the  letter  to  the  curate.  All 

O 


the  village  is  invited. 

Jenny.  Miss  Ada  married  !  Mr.  Edgar  returned  1 

Stump.  Why,  have  they  not  been  betrothed  ever  since  they  were 
children  1  What's  the  matter  with  you  1 

Jenny.  Two  months  ago  the  news  arrived  here  that  Mr.  Edgar  had 
been  killed  in  battle.  When  Dr.  Rees  read  it,  Miss  Ada  fell  down  as 
if  she  had  been  shot,  and  a  fever  came  on  her — she  lost  her  senses — 
and  she  died 

Stump.  Died  ! 

Jenny.  So  Dr.  Rees  came  down  and  told  us — when  he  ordered  her 
coffin  from  old  Graves,  the  carpenter — and  the  bells  of  our  church  tolled 
for  her.  The  night  before  her  burial,  a  stranger  arrived  at  Raby  Castle. 
— he  consulted  with  Dr.  Rees,  and  the  next  day  they  countermanded 
the  coffin,  and  stopped  the  mourning — Miss  Ada  had  revived. 

Stump.  I  always  thought  that  old  Dr.  Rees  was  a  humbug.  I  re¬ 
member,  when  I  was  a  boy,  he  wanted  to  stick  all  the  village  children 
in  the  arm  with  a  lancet  What  for !— to  give  you  the  small-pox  !  He 
said  it  would  cure  them  of  it.  He’s  mad.  Well  ! - 

Jenny.  Ever  since  her  recovery,  Miss  Ada  is  no  longer  the  same  girl 
*he  was  She  is  pale  and  sad.  She  used  to  pass  hours  in  speaking  to 
me  of  Mr.  Edgar,  and  now  when  I  mention  his  name,  she  shudders 
all  over. 

Stump.  Marriage  will  cure  her  of  that. 

Jenny.  Will  it,  really  1 

Stump.  I  warrant  ye. 

Jenny.  I  say,  Joe,  I’ve  got  the  shivers'  very  bad,  especially  through 
the  long  winter  nights. 

Stump.  [Slapping  his  breast  ]  Here’s  the  remedy,  to  be  taken  imme- 
diatelv  !  To-night,  when  the  Captain  and  Miss  Anna  are  married,  will 
you  be  mine  ! 


I 


16  THE  PHANTOM. 

Jenny.  To  night  !  !  you  take  away  my  breath  ! 

> Stump.  Thai’s  my  way  of  doing  it — off  hand — without  any  cere¬ 
mony. 

Jenny.  Without  any  ceremony !  Oh,  you  villain,  dare  you  offer  to 
marry  me  without  a  ceremony  ! 

Stump.  My  dear  little  Welsh  angel — you  shall  have  it  all  complete — 
parson — bell — marrow-bones — cleavers  and  all  the  poetic  mind  could 
desire. 

Jenny.  I’m  only  an  innocent  and  helpless  girl,  but,  if  you  take  ad¬ 
vantage  of  my  feelings — 

Stump.  Oh  1 

Jenny.  I  should  break  your  back  with  a  chopper  ! 

Stump  Moderate  your  virtue,  my  dear  Jenny — and  subdue  its  indig¬ 
nant  blazes ;  come  along,  and  rely  on  me,  the  honor  of  the  British  soldier 
is  a  matter  of  history. 

Jenny.  Yes,  but  my  virtue  is  a  matter  of  fact.  And  a  girl  is  a  fool, 
who  relies  on  her  lover,  before  she  has  lost  all  reliance  on  herself. 

[ Exeunt  r.  h.,  1  E. 

Scene  II.  A  room  in  Raby  Castle. 

Enter  Colonel  Rabv  and  Edgar,  c.  d. 

Col.  [Looking  off.]  So  Edgar,  we  have  penetrated  thus  far  into  Raby 
Castle  without  seeing  a  living  soul. 

Edgar.  We  are  not  expected,  and  you  know,  my  dear  Colonel,  that 
the  whole  garrison  consists  of  Dr.  Rees,  our  dear  Ada  and  two  ser¬ 
vants. 

Col.  But  see,  here  comes  the  old  Doctor. 

Edgar.  Dear  old  Doctor — the  same  gentle  tutor  of  my  youth — how 
my  heart  yearns  towards  him. 

Enter  Dr.  Rees,  l.  h.  2.  e. 

Rees.  Strangers  ] — no — yes,  it  is  my  dear  Edgar,  my  dear  boy — and 
Colonel  Raby  also  !  my  kind  friends,  welcome  home. 

Edgar,  (l.)  I  have  thought  daily  of  you — and  in  my  trunks  below, 
you  wTill  find  some  old  books  that  I  picked  up  in  Flanders  on  your  fa¬ 
vorite  subject — Alchemy. 

Rees,  (c.)  Always  the  same  good,  kind  heart. 

Edgar.  But  where  is  Ada"? 

Rees.  On  the  South  Battlement. 

Edgar  I  know  the  spot— pardon  a  lover’s  impatience.  I  fly  to  claim 
the  first  kiss.  [Exit  c.  d. 

Col.  (r.)  Go  along,  for  the  finest  fellow  that  ever  won  a  woman’s 
heart 

Rees,  (l.)  Hist  1  [  Walks  around  and  looks  off. 

Col.  What  the  plague  is  the  old  Dominic  about  1 

Rees  Colonel  Raby — I  thank  heaven  you  have  come  back. 

Col.  .What’s  the  matter  1 

Rees.  I  have  to  relate  to  you  a  strange  and  wild  history  that  has 
laken  place  in  Raby  Castle  since  your  departure.  It  is  now  three 


% 


THE  PHANTOM.  17 

months  ago,  Ada  and  I  were  seated  at  breakfast,  and  the  dear  girl  was 
reading  the  London  Journal  wh’ch  had  just  arrived  with  news  of  the 
great  Battle  of  Blenheim. 

Col.  When  my  regiment  behaved  so  bravely. 

Rees.  With  sparkling  eyes  she  read  the  praises  bestowed  on  your 
name. — when  suddenly  the  paper  escaped  from  her  hand,  and  she  fell 
senseless  to  the  ground. 

Col.  Edgar  was  returned  killed. 

Rees.  I  read  it  then — “  Captain  Edgar  Peveryl  mortally  wounded, 
died  on  the  following  day.” 

Col.  So  we  believed,  but  thanks  to  the  wondrous  skill  of  a  strange 
physician,  he  was  snatched  from  the  grave,  and  ere  I  could  pledge  my 
gratitude  to  our  benefactor,  he  had  disappeared  from  the  camp  as  mys¬ 
teriously  as  he  entered  it. 

Rees.  The  news  of  Edgar’s  recovery  also  arrived,  but  it  came  too  late 
— a  brain  fever  struck  my  dearest  child,  and  my  darling  Ada  died  in 
my  arms. 

Col.  You  terrify  me. 

Rees.  As  I  live  she  was  dead  !  for  five  days  I  watched,  and  for  five 
nights  I  prayed  by  her  bedside  ; — it  was  the  night  before  her  funeral 
when  a  carriage  drove  into  the  castle  yard, — A  stranger  alighted,  and 
I  met  him  in  this  room.  He  came  to  see  Ada. — I  knew  not  his  errand 
— before  he  could  explain  it  I  told  hir  that  she  was  dead,  still  he 
asked  to  see  her. — I  would  have  refused,  but  he  waived  me  aside,  and 
passed  by  me,  finding  his  way  to  her  ch  mber,  as  if  every  avenue  in 
the  castle  were  familiar  to  him. 

Col.  Your  story  is  strange,  indeed. 

Rees.  We  stood  by  her  bedside  ;  he  gazed  long  upon  her,  and  then 
placed  his  hand  upon  her  forehead  ;  his  brow  contracted  ;  his  eyes 
seemed  to  glow  with  fire.  Long  time  he  stood  thus,  until  I  started  with 
horror ;  a  shudder  quivered  through  her  frame ;  she  moved.  The 
stranger  smiled  ;  he  stooped  down  and  pressed  his  lips  to  hers  ;  her 
eyes  opened,  and  she  drew  a  deep  sigh. 

Col.  She  was  in  a  trance. 

Rees.  Slowly,  day-by-day,  she  recovered,  but  it  was  not  the  same 
life  that  lived  in  her  ;  it  seemed  not  to  be  the  same  blood  that  flowed  in 
her  veins  ;  her  soul  appeared  to  cling  to  him  for  support ;  she  obeyed 
his  gestures,  and  trembled  beneath  his  gaze. 

Col.  Speak  out,  Doctor  ;  I  am  a  soldier,  and  love  an  open  heart. 
tYhat  do  you  fear  1 

Rees.  1  fear  that  this  man  deals  in  witchcraft,  and  I  believe  there  is 
something  in  him  supernatural. 

Col.  Because  he  cured  my  child  when  you  had  given  her  up  1 

Rees  No,  because  1  have  watched  him,  and  he  never  eats,  drinks, 
or  sleeps.  At  night,  he  wanders  from  the  castle  into  the  mountains  ; 
ind  one  bright  moonlight  night,  from  the  high  turret  window,  I  followed 
his  track  with  my  telescope. 

Col.  For  shame,  Doctor  ;  did  you  play  the  spy  ; 

.Rees.  He  ascended  to  the  very  peak  of  Snowdon,  and  there,  upon  a 
ledge  of  rock,  he  stood  alone,  watching  the  moon  rise.  As  the  first 


18 


THE  PHANTOM. 


rays  fell  o\er  the  snowy-waste,  he  bared  his  breast,  and  spread  his  t  rma 
towards  the  luminary. 

Col.  He  was  gathering  herbs  and  simples,  which  must  be  culled  at 
that  hour  to  ensure  their  virtue. 

Rees.  The  next  evening  I  climbed  the  mountain,  and  concealed  my¬ 
self  near  the  spot  ;  he  came  ;  again  his  breast  seemed  to  drink  in  the 
moonbeams.  I  looked  close,  when  I  saw  here,  in  his  left  bosom,  just 
over  the  heart,  was  an  unclosed  wound,  as  if  a.  pistol  bullet  had  passed 
through  him  ! 

Col.  Ha  !  ha  !  would  you  have  me  believe  that  this  gentleman  is 
dead  as  wrell  as  Ada  ? 


Enter  Ada  and  Edgar,  c.  d. 


Look  there,  you  old  infidel,  there’s  life,  and  the  best  proof  of  it — Love  ! 

Ada.  (l.)  My  dearest  father  !  [ Crosses  toe. — embraces  Colonel. 

Col.  (r.)  My  darling  child,  do  I  behold  you  again  ;  but  you  look  pale. 

Edgar,  (l.)  She  has  been  ill,  very  ill,  and  she' is  still  weak. 

Ada.  (c.)  No,  your  presence  revives  me  ;  but  forgive  me,  dear  father, 
and  you,  Edgar,  pardon  me,  if  I  am  no  longer  the  same  thoughtless 
girl  you  once  knew.  I  knew  not  how  much  I  am  changed  until  this 
moment,  when  I  can  remember  our  parting,  and  I  compare  it  now  with 
our  meeting. 


Edgar.  Her  memory  has  faded — her  hand  fell  listless  into  mine,  and 
as  I  spoke  words  of  love  and  fondness,  she  echoed  them  as  from  the 
hollowness  of  her  heart. 

Ada.  No,  no.  1  love  you,  more — more  than  ever ;  but  I  am  still  in  the 
trance  from  which  he  recovered  me. 

Edgar.  Your  physician  ? 

Ada.  Aye  !  and  yours — Rookwood. 

^ofar‘  ^  Rookwood  • 


Rees.  You  know  him  1 

Edgar.  It  is  to  him  I  owe  my  life. 

Col.  His  appearance  here  is  rather  strange. 

Ada.  I  know  all.  When  I  fell  into  a  trance,  I  saw  you  lying  in 
your  tent,  dead  ;  I  saw  Rookwood  arrive,  and  I  watched  by  your  bed¬ 
side  during  recovery. 

Col.  She  raves  ! 

Ada.  Rookwood  hastened  hither  ;  day  and  night  he  travelled  ;  he 
lavished  gold,  and  flew  over  the  land.  1  saw  him  coming,  and  also  J 
saw  the  preparations  for  my  funeral  ;  oh,  it  was  a  terrible  thing,  father, 
for  I  could  not  tell  if  they  would  not  bury  me  ere  he  arrived.  I  strug¬ 
gled  to  speak,  but  I  was  cold  and  motionless,  living,  but  dead. 

Col.  This  is,  indeed,  terrible,  my  child  ! 

Ada.  But  he  came — he  came,  and  I  revived,  yet  my  life  i>:  held  in 
his  power.  When  he  approaches,  a  thrill  quivers  through  my  reins  ;  I 
am  enchanted  by  his  eyes,  as  a  bird  beneath  the  fascination  of  a  ser¬ 
pent. 

Edgar.  [Aside  ]  Oh,  what  pang  of  suspicion  is  this  that  seizes  my 
heart  — can  it  be  that  she  loves  him  1 


THE  PHANTOM. 


19 


Cot.  My  dearest  Ada,  all  this  is  only  the  effect  of  an  overwrought 
imagination  ;  as  your  strength  returns,  you  will  laugh  at  these  follies. 

Ada.  No,  it  is  not  folly  ;  for  now — now — I  feel  that  he  is  approaching 
this  room — he  crosses  the  battlements — see.  he  enters  the  corridor — his 
eyes  are  fixed  upon  me  ! 

Edgar.  \Gazmg  at  her.]  You  cannot  see  him 

Ada.  But  my  soul  can. 

Col.  Ada! 

Ada.  He  comes  !  he  comes  ! 

Enter  Alan  Raby,  c.  from  l. 

Col.  Rookwood  ! 

Edgar.  ’Tis  he  ! 

Alan.  Behold  your  child  Colonel  Raby,  restored  to  life. 

Edgar.  She  trembles  ! — lean  upon  me,  dearest.  [ Crosses  to  R.  C. 

Col.  How  shall  I  repay  you  this  double  debt  1  I  owe  you  the  lives 
of  my  two  children. 

Edgar.  Let  me  lead  you  forth  into  the  air;  we  will  revisit  the  spots 
do  dear  to  us  both,  and  where,  as  children,  we  exchanged  our  love. 

Ada.  I  cannot — he — he — enthrals  me  ! 

Alan.  Go,  Ada — lead  Edgar  to  the  spots  you  love — go  ! 

Ada.  Come  [ Exit  Edgar  and  Ada,  c.,  and  off  l.  h. 

Col.  [ Aside  ]  I  will  demand  an  explanation  of  Rookwood,  who,  and 
what  is  he1  and  what  mystery  is  this  whidh  surrounds  him1  and  why 
does  he  thus  bestow  upon  my  family  obligations  I  can  never  repay 1 — 
[Aloud.]  Doctor*?  [ Crossing  to  l.  c.]  I  see  that  the  corporal  has  arrived 
with  our  luggage.  You  will  find  amongst  it  a  box  marked  with  your 
name  ;  open  it,  it  contains  some  choice  volumes,  a  rare  feast — a  collec¬ 
tion  of  monkish  recipes  and  a  book  of  Arabian  charms. 

Rees.  If  I  could  only  find  amongst  them  a  recipe  to  exorcise  the  devil. 

Col.  Hush  !  .  [Exit  Dr.  Rees,  l.  h.  1  e. 

Alan,  (c.)  You  aie  suprprised,  Colonel  Raby,  to  find  me  here,  and  no 
less  surprised  to  account  wherefore  one  who  is  a  stranger  to  you  and 
yours  should  bestow  obligations  on  your  family,  which  you  know  not 
how  to  repay - 

Col.  [l.  h.]  You  anticipate  my  very  thoughts. 

Alan,  you  shrink  from  the  mystery  that  surrounds  me,  and  my  ap¬ 
pearance  affects  you  strangely. 

Col.  I  must  confess  it. 

Alan.  I  seem  almost  unearthly. 

Col  It  is  doubtless  the  effect  of  study. 

Alan  No — it  is  the  result  of  a  mortal  wound - 

Col.  In  the  left  breast1 

Alan.  [Aside.]  I  thought  so — I  have  been  betrayed.  [Aloud.]  By  the 
study  I  lavished  on  my  own  life  to  preserve  it,  I  was  enabled  to  save 
that  of  your  child 

(■ol.  I  can  never  forget  it,  sir — never ! 

Alan.  You  will,  when  you  know  all.  My  presence  here  was  not  to 
bring  you  aid  and  comfort,  but  misery  and  destruction.  In  a  word,  I 
am  the  legal  master  of  the  broad  acres  which  ycu  usurp,  and  I  am  the 
lawful  lord  of  Raby  Castle  i 


20 


THE  PHANTOM. 


Col.  You? 

Alan.  By  what  title  do  you  hold  this  estate? 

Col.  The  clearest  in  the  world.  The  last  of  the  old  Raby  family,  Sit 
Alan  Raby,  died,  or  was  killed,  rather,  and  leaving  no  will,  the  estate 
reverted  to  a  distant  branch  of  the  Raby’s,  and  I  am  their  descendant. 

Alan.  You  are  mistaken  ;  Alan  Raby  did  leave  a  will,  and  here  it  is. 

Col.  How  !  [Takes  an  old  document  from  Alan. 

Alan.  It  is  in  his  own  handwriting,  which  may  easily  be  identified, 
dated  a  few  months  before  his  death. — It  bequeaths  this  estate  to  Ger- 
vase  Rookwood,  and  of  that  man  Tam  the  descendant. 

Col.  But  why  was  not  this  claim  pressed  before  ? 

Alan.  The  Rookwood  herein  named,  was  a  Puritan,  and  fled  to  Ame¬ 
rica  ;  when  this  document  reached  him  he  was  proscribed,  and  dared 
not  return  to  England  to  claim  this  estate.  He  died,  and  until  now  the 
claim  has  been  overlooked. 

Col.  Mr.  Rookwood.  frankly,  I  am  confounded  by  this  intelligence  ; 
but  there  is  a  proud  joy  that  mingles  with  my  sorrow,  for  now  I  can  in 
some  degree  give  you  proof  of  my  gratitude.  I  yield  you  immediate 
possession.  The  tenants  are  gathering  in  the  hall  to  witness  Edgar’s 
marriage.  I  will  there  announce  to  them  that  in  you  they  behold  their 
future  lord. 

•  -  .  .  0 

Enter  Edgar,  c. 

Edgar,  you  have  often  regretted  that  Ada  was  wealthy,  while  you  were 
penniless.  Read  that  document,  [Gives  Edgar  the  will,]  your  pride  is 
satisfied,  for  she  is  no  longer  the  heiress  of  Raby,  but  the  poor  child  of 
a  soldier  of  fortune. 

Edgar.  Rookwood  ! 

Col.  Rookwood,  who  preserved  Ada  for  your  love — Rookwood,  who 
saved  your  life - 

Edgar.  [Advancing  to  Alan  ]  You  saved  my  life,  but  you  have  rob¬ 
bed  me  of  all  that  made  life  dear — Ada  lives,  but  she  lives  for  you  alone 
— who  are  you,  that  have  bereft  us  of  all,  yet  seem  to  be  our  bene¬ 
factor  ? 

Col  Edgar ! 

Edgar.  She  loves  him — she  has  confessed  the  terrible  fascination  he 
possesses  over  her — she  clung  to  me  with  tears,  and  faintly  repeated 
h^r  vows  of  love,  but  I  knew  they  came  not  from  her  heart - 

Col.  Rookwood,  you  love  my  child,  you  have  shown  her  that  deed, 
and  to  save  me  from  beggary  she  would  consent  to  wed  you. 

Enter  Ada,  c. 

Alan.  She  is  here — let  her  speak. 

Col.  Ada,  come  hither ;  you  have  seen  the  tenants  of  th  is  estate 
assembling  in  the  hall — do  you  know  why  they  are  here? 

Ada.  They  come  to  welcome  home  their  lord  and  master,  mv  noble 
father. 

Col.  (c  )  No.  I  am  no  longer  the  lord  of  Raby  Castle — yonder  i* 

my  successor. 

4 da.  (l.  c.)  He  ! 


THE  PHANTOM. 


21 


Col.  Listen,  my  child.  There  stand?  your  lover — here,  the  saviour 
of  your  dear  life  :  both  love  you  ;  let  your  heart  judge  between  those 
men. 

Ada.  My  father  !  [She  stands  bewildered. 

Col.  If  you  no  longer  love  my  poor  Edgar,  do  not  dishonor  him  by 
yielding  him  a  heartless  bride  ;  but  if  for  my  sake  you  would  sacrifice 
your  young  heart  to  preserve  my  fortune,  you  would  oe  trebly  false  to 
your  lover,  and  to  your  father  ! 

Enter  Corporal  Stump,  c.  d. 

Stump.  Colonel,  the  curate  has  arrived  and  awaits  you  in  the  chapel. 
The  tenants  are  assembled  in  the  hall. 

Col.  The  curate  has  come  to  bless  your  union,  Ada. 

Ada.  [Still  bewildered.]  Mine! 

Col.  I  leave  you  to  decide. 

[Exit  Col.  Raby  followed  by  the  Corporal,  c,  d. 

Ada.  (c.)  What  do  I  hear  l 

Alan,  (r.)  You  hear  that  I  love  you.  Ada,  my  soul,  are  you  not 
mine — are  you  not  she  whom  I  have  snatched  from  the  jaws  of  death  1 
I  love  you,  your  young  life  shall  revive  me,  and  for  this  end  I  bade  you 
live. 

Ada.  What  power  is  this  that  oppresses  me  1 

Alan.  It  is  my  will  ;  mine  eyes  fix  upon  thy  heart  as  if  with  fangs, 
while  my  soul  like  a  serpent  entwines  thine  within  its  folds,  and  crushes 
thee  to  my  will.  Ada,  thou  art  mine  ! 

Ada.  Spare  me.  Yes,  thou  art  my  master  ;  I  cannot  oppose  thee. 

Edgar,  [l.  Goes  to  Ada.]  She  turns  away  from  me.  Not  one  look, 
Ada — Ada,  will  you  not  speak  to  me! 

Ada.  Edgar,  no,  no — 1  love  you — my  heart  fs - 

Alan.  Peace  ! 

Edgar.  Farewell :  I  would  that  I  could  have  made  you  happy. 

Ada.  Do  not  leave  me. 

Edgar.  I  cannot  bear  to  witness  your  love  bestowed  upon  another — 
farewell.  Dearest  Ada,  may  you  be  happy  !  [Exit  c.  d. 

Ada.  Edgar  !  Edgar - 

Alan.  Stay — retire  to  your  chamber — robe  yourself  for  the  altar,  and 
remain  there  until  my  will  beckons  thee  to  come. 

Ada.  1  obey.  [Turns — Exit  Ada,  l.  h.  2  r. 

Alan.  She  is  mine  !  To-night,  ere  the  moon  rises,  a  new  life  drawn 
from  the  pure  heart  of  a  maiden  must  enter  into  this  form.  Ada  shall 
be  the  victim — her  life  for  mine  !  [Exit  Alan  Raby,  c.  d. 

Scene  III. — An  apartment  in  the  Castle. 

Enter  Dr.  Rees,  l.  h„  roith  an  old  book. 

Rees.  Amongst  the  medical  books  which  the  Colonel  brought  from 
Flanders,  I  found  this — a  rare  work  by  Dr.  Dee.  It  is  a  Dictionary  of 
Necromancy.  [  Examines  book. 

Enter  Jenny  and  Corporal,  r.  1  e. 

Stamp.  Jtnny,  how  do  you  feel  just  before  marriage— don5  you  feel 
nervous  1 


22 


THE  PHANTOM. 


Jenny.  No. 

Stump.  Don't  you  Teel  the  responsibility  ? 

Jenny .  No — what  does  it  feel  like  1 

Slump.  Do  you  know  the  duties  of  a  wife  ] 

Jenny.  Yes  ;  she  is  always  up  first,  makes  the  fires,  cleans  up,  and 
gets  breakfast,  washes  everything,  cooks  the  dinner,  tidies  round,  waits 
up  for  you  at  night  while  you  are  drinking  at  the  public  house,  creeps 
out  after  you  and  leads  you  home  drunk,  puts  you  to  bed,  and  swears 
to  all  the  neighbors  that  you  are  the  best  of  husbands. 

Stump.  Jenny,  your  ideas  of  matrimony  coincide  with  mine  exactly. 

Rees  What  do  I  see? 

Stump.  Eh  ! — oh,  ’tis  the  Doctor ! 

Rees  Oh,  powers  of  darkness  !  what  is  this?  [Reads.]  “The  Yam- 
“  pire  :  This  strange  monster  is  well  authenticated — chiefly  known  in 
“  Germany.  It  is  said  that  if  a  dead  person  be  exposed  to  the  first 
“  rays  of  the  rising  moon  which  touch  the  earth,  a  false  life  is  instilled 
“  into  the  corpse.” 

Stump.  Oh,  Lord  ! 

Rees  [Reads.]  “  Which  possesses  movement,  and  all  signs  of  ordi- 
“  nary  existence,  except  that  there  is  no  pulsation  in  the  heart — this 
“  creature,  living  against  the  will  of  heaven,  eats  not,  drinks  not,  nor 
“  does  he  require  the  refreshment  of  sleep.”  I  am  all  over  a  cold  per 
“  spiration  ! 

Stump.  What  does  he  live  on  ? 

Rees.  [Reads.]  “  This  phantom  recruits  its  life  by  drawing  the  life 
“  blood  from  the  veins  of  the  living,  but  more  especially  it  chooses 
“  victims  from  amongst  maidens  pure  and  spotless.  As  the  body  of 
“  this  monster  is  bloodless,  so  his  face  is  said  to  be  as  pale  as  death  ” 

Jenny.  Oh,  dear  !  the  old  Dominie  is  going  to  faint ! 

Rees.  Jenny  !  Joe  ! — let  me  recover  my  reason.  Is  there  not  a  legend 
in  the  village,  a  terrible  story  about  this  castle  { 

Jenny.  The  curse  of  Ilaby  ! 

Rees.  At  long  intervals  the  Phantom  of  Alan  Raby  visits  this  place, 
and  his  presence  is  known  by  the 
of  his  race. 

Stump.  Sixty  years  ago  the  beautiful  Maud  Raby  was  found  mur¬ 
dered  on  the  south  battlement,  the  night  before  her  biidal. 

Jenny.  But  what  does  that  matter  now  ? 

Eiiter  Edgar,  r.  h. 

Rees.  Nothing. 

Edaar.  Go,  Corporal,  the  Colonel  wants  you  in  the  chapel. 

Stump.  Come  along,  Jenny.  [Crosses  to  l  h.]  The  parson  is  waiting 
like  an  executioner  to  tie  the  fatal  knot.  Oh,  mysterious  matrimony — 
as  the  dying  philosopher  said,  “  Now  for  the  great  secret !” 

[Exeuid  Corporal  and  Jenny. 

Rees.  Edgar,  my  dear  boy,  where  is  Ada? 

Edgar.  My  dear  tutor.  Ada  loves  me  not.  and  I  have  fled  from  tha 
sight  of  that  happiness  which  she  has  bestowed  upon  another. 

Rec*  Another* 


mysterious  death  of  some  daughter 


THE  PHANTOM. 


O'] 

V  > 


Edgar.  \  ou  see  this  deed  :  [ Produces  the  WiR.l  It  is  the  will  of 

Sir  Alan  Raby. 

Rees  Impossible !  what  is  here  1  [Examines  the  paper. ]  Conveyance 
ot  the  lands  of  Raby  to  Gervase  Rookwood  ! 

Edgar.  Aye,  Rookwood,  whom  she  loves — she  has  confessed  it,  anil 
even  now  she  stands  beside  him  at  the  altar,  and  the  priest  blesses 
their  union. 

Rees.  Wedded  to  him  !  And  to  save  his  estate,  the  Colonel  consents 
to  give  his  only  child  to  this  demon  1 

Edgar.  You  wrong  him  ;  Rookwood  is  a  noble,  generous  rival. 

Rees.  You  are  all  mad  together.  Stay,  let  me  examine  this  paper — 
yes,  amongst  the  old  deeds  contained  in  the  family  chest  I  have  often 
read  over  the  documents  written  by  Alan  Raby,  and  this  is  his  hand¬ 
writing — Ah  ! — Stop  ! — what  date  is  this  will, — see  1 

Edgar.  1645. 

Rees.  Now  see  the  water-mark  upon  the  paper, — can  you  dis¬ 
tinguish  it  1 

Edgar.  1750! 

Rees.  Yet  it  is  written  in  Alan  Raby’s  hand — written  by  him  on 
paper  manufactured  a  hundred  years  after  his  death. 

Edgar.  A  forgery  1 

Rees.  Were  I  to  tell  you  who,  and  what  this  creature  is — you  would 
laugh  at  my  fears — but  there  is  proof  enough  to  save  Ada  from  his 
clutch.  [Peasantry  shout  outside .]  It  is  too  late — the  ceremony  s 
over  ;  they  are  now  proceeding  to  the  vestry  to  sign  the  contract. 

Edgar.  There  we  may  compare  with  this  paper,  the  signature  of 
Rookwood — if  it  agree,  I  will  protect  Ada  with  my  life  ! 

[Exit  Edgar,  l.  ii. 

R^tf  And  I  will  protect  you  all  with  mine.  Now  for  the  struggle 
with  this  phantom — let  us  see — what  says  the  dictionary  :  [Reads  } 
“  Tbj  Vampire  can  be  destroyed  by  fire,  or  by  a  bullet,  which  mu- 1 
pierca  bis  heart.”  I  saw  the  Colonel’s  pistol-case  in  the  hall.  ‘“Aft<'r 
death,  his  body  must  be  kept  from  the  moonlight,  or,  by  the  virtue  of 
its  ray*,  he  will  revive  ”  There’s  the  prescription — I’ll  go  and  make 
it  up.  [Exit  Dr.  Rees,  l  it. 


Scene  IV. — A  Room  in  the  Castle. 

Alan  Raby,  Ada  Raby,  Colonel  Raby,  Jenny  and  Corporal  Stumi 
discovered. — Table  r  h.,  with  Book  jand  Writing  materials  upon  it  — 
The  Curate  seated. — Tableau. 

Curate.  The  papers  are  ready  for  signature. 

Stump.  Let  me  sign.  [Writes.]  There — Joseph  Stump.  Now 

Jenny,  it  n  your  turn — make  your  cross 

Jenny  There.  [<S7$rns.]  Now,  Mr.  Curate,  this  man  belongs  to  no 
don't  1  [Goes  to  Corporal  Sty  vp 

Stump  I  surrender. 

Cxi  ate  Now  the  bridegroom  will  sign.  . :• 

Col  Speak,  Ada,  or  shall  I  believe  that  silence  gives  consent  ' 


24 


THE  PHANTOM. 


Jenny.  [Aside  to  Stump.]  Only  to  think  of  Miss  Ada  jilting  Mr 

Edgar.  ; 

Stump.  Hush  ! — see,  there  he  is. 

Enter  Edgar  and  Dr.  Reks,  at  the  hack ,  c  d. 

Alan.  She  is  mine.  [Signs. 

[Edgar  advances ,  and  compares  the  signature  with  the  writing  of  the. 
will. 

Now,  my  beloved,  let  your  hand  for  the  last  time  trace  the  name  of 
\da  Raby, 

Edgar.  Hold  !  I  forbid  this  marriage  to  proceed. 

Col.  Edgar  1 

Alan.  What  means  this  outrage,  sir  1 

Col.  She  faints  ! — Ada - 

Alan.  My  bride  !  let  me  recover  her - 

Rees.  [l.  c.  up.]  Stop  !  I’ll  see  to  her.  Bear  her  into  the  next 
room — Jenny,  lend  us  your  help. 

[Colonel  Raby,  Curate  and  Jenny  bear  out  Ada,  c. 
Hist  !  Corporal,  I  want  you. 

Stump.  Me ! 

Rees.  Listen  !  [Dr.  Rees  and  Corporal  Stump  withdraw  at  c. 

Alan r  [l.  c  ]  Now,  sir — may  I  ask  for  some  explanation  of  your  con¬ 
duct  ! 

Edgar,  [r.  c  ]  It  is  easily  given.  You  are  discovered  !  I  hold  in 
my  hand  the  proof  of  your  imposture — your  signature  yonder  and  this 
will  are  in  the  same  hand-writing. 

Alan.  Malediction  !  And  is  this  all  the  proof  you  possess  to  affix  so 
grave  a  charge  1 

Edgar.  No — it  is  not  all  the  proof  I  have — this  testament,  purporting 
to  be  the  will  of  Sir  Alan  Raby,  and  bearing  date  one  hundred  years 
ago,  is  written  upon  paper  which  has  a  water-mark  shewing  it  to  be 
scarcely  five  years  old  ! 

Alan.  Well,  sir,  I  confess  it — that  document  is  in  my  hand-writing. 
I  intended  to  buy  the  hand,  if  I  failed  to  secure  the  heart  : — but  she 
loves  me  ! 

Edgar.  She  knows  not  that  you  are  an  impostor. 

Alan.  You  will  tell  her  so — and  thus,  if  you  cannot  gain  her  love 
you  may  at  least  blast  her  happiness. 

Edgar.  You  saved  my  life — but  that  life  is  pledged  to  protect  her 
against  one  who  is  capable  of  such  an  act  as  this, 

Alan.  I  read  your  purpose.  You  will  speak,  if  I  do  not  silence  you 
for  ever  ;  be  it  so.  Meet  me  to-night,  with  what  weapons  and  at  what 
place  you  choose  ;  let  the  survivor  of  a  deadly  combat  obtain  the  hand 
of  Ada  Raby. 

Edgar.  Agreed.  Where  shall  we  meet? 

Alan.  In  one  hour  hence  the  moon  will  rise  above  the  peaks  of 
Snowdon - 

Edgar.  The  peaks  of  Snowdon  ' 

Alan.  There  is  a  ledge  of  rock  upon  the  topmost  summit;  it  over 
hangs  the  torrent,  affording  just  room  enough  for  two  deadly  enemief 


THE  PHANTOM. 


25 


*  stand — a  deep  abyss  is  all  around, — it  will  serve  for  my  grave  or 
you  rs. 

Edgar.  You  select  a  strange  time  and  place. 

Alan.  Our  combat  must  be  without  witnesses — as  the  cause  of  it 
must  remain  unknown.  The  disappearance  of  either  of  us  will  cause 
no  surprise. 

Edgar.  I  wiU  meet  you  on  the  rock  in  an  hour  hence. 

Alan.  In  an  hour -  [ Exit  Edgar,  r.  h 

He  is  mine !  [Dr.  Rees  and  Corporal  StUxMP  appear  at  back. 

Rccs.  [In  a  low  tone .]  Follow  Edgar — don’t  lose  sight  of  him. 

Stump.  [In  a  low  voice  ]  I'll  stick  to  him  like  a  shadow. 

[  Disappears  quickly ,  r.  h. 

Rees  I’ll  attend  to  this  one.  Where  shall  1  conceal  myself  1  Yor« 
der  is  the  bridal  chamber  [Grosses  to  r.  h.,  and  Exits ,  2  e. 

Alan.  Now  for  my  bride !  Long  ere  J  seek  young  Edgar’s  life¬ 
blood,  Ada’s  loving  spirit  shall  pass  into  my  heart.  Where  is  she  ! 
1  see  her  ;  she  sleeps  fitfully — her  father  leaves  her  ;  he  quits  the  room 
to  seek  Edgar.  She  is  alone  with  the  village  girl.  So.  now  the  rustic 
bride  moves  towards  the  door,  and  leaves  my  victim  alone.  Ada  ! 
Ada  !  arise  ! — she  obeys  me.  Come,  I  command  thee  ! — -so,  she  ap¬ 
proaches —  she  is  a  slave  to  my  will  ! 

Enter  Ada,  c. 

She  sleeps — Ada  ! 

Ada.  I  am  here.  [Down  c. 

Alan.  (l.  h.)  Ada  !  [SAc  recoils  from  his  touch. 

Ada.  Touch  me  not.  thy  touch  strikes  cold  into  my  heart — oh !  let 
me  sleep. 

Alan.  No — awake  and  be  thyself,  the  hour  is  come. 

Ada.  Ah  !  my  brain  reels  round 

Alan.  Ada — thou  knowest  me  ! 

Ada.  From  what  horrible  dream  do  I  awake! 

Alan.  Ada ! 

Ada.  Ah  ! — you  here  ? 

Alan.  Why  do  you  look  thus  upon  me! 

Ada.  Begone  !  you  inspire  me  with  terror. 

Alan.  Thou  lovest  me,  thy  soul  is  mine.  Come  to  my  heart,  thou 
can’st  not  escape  the  spell  my  spirit  has  cast  upon  thine.  Why  do  you 
repulse - 

Ada  Because  that  breast  upon  which  you  press  me,  seems  to  be  the 
bosom  of  a  corpse,  and  from  the  heart  within  I  feel  no  throb  of  life  ! 

Alan.  Ah!  dost  thou  know  me,  then  ! 

Ada  Away — phantom  !  demon  ! — thy  soul  is  dark,  thy  heart  is  cold. 

Alan.  Ada — thy  life  must  pass  into  that  heart. 

Ada.  Avaunt! — leave  me! — my  father — Edgar — oh!  my  voice  is 
choked  with  fear — avoid  thee,  fiend  !  abhorrent  spectre  ! 

[Retreats  into  room ,  r.  h.  2  r. 

Alan.  She  is  mine.  [Going  to  r.  h.  d. 

Enter  T)r.  Rees,  a  pistol  in  one  hand,  and  the  Great  Book  in  the  other. 

Rees.  Stop  !  . 


26  THE  PHANTOM. 

Alan.  Perdition  ! 

Rees.  All  right,  I’ve  got  a  preparation  for  you.  Dr  Dee’s  Dictionary 
of  Necromancy,  under  the  genus  Phantom,  species  Vampire, — how  the 
animal  may  be  destroyed  by  a  bullet  in  the  heart — I’m  dead  on  the 
place  ! 

Alan.  Fool !  what  means  this  rhapsody  ! 

Rees.  It  means  that  there  is  just  a  doubt  on  my  mind  whether  you 
are  mortal  or  devil,  and  I  will  give  you  the  benefit  of  that  doubt,  if  you 
will  make  a  rush  for  it ;  ecod,  if  not,  I’ll  chance  it. 

Alan.  Madman!  you  shall  repent  this  outrage.  [Aside.']  Edgar 
awaits  me,  I  have  a  victim  yet.  [Exit  Alan,  c. 

Rees.  He’s  gone — I’ll  stick  to  him.  [Exit  Da.  Rees,  c 

Scene  V. — A  Rocky  Pass  near  the  summit  of  Snowdon. 

Enter  Edgae,  l.  h. 

Edgar.  For  an  hour  have  I  watched,  yet  he  comes  not;  the  faint 
light  of  the  coming  moon  show's  that  the  h«ur  is  near ;  yonder  must  be 
the  ledge  of  rocks  of  which  he  spoke.  I  will  await  him  there. 

[Exit  Edgar,  a.  h. 

Enter  Corporal  Stump,  cautiously ,  l.  h. 

Stump.  There  he  goes,  still  higher,  over  rocks  and  along  goat  tracks. 
I  never  was  so  near  heaven  before  ; — hush  !  I  hear  a  footstep,  some  one 
ascends  the  mountain.  [Conceals  himself. 

Enter  Alan,  l.  h. 

Alan.  I  saw  a  form  on  this  spot. 

Stump.  [Peeping.]  ’Tis  the  devil !  Ilookwood  ! 

Alan.  Ha !  yonder  he  climbs  the  path  ;  at  least  for  him  there  is  no 
escape  ;  at  one  blow  I  satisfy  my  hate,  I  obtain  my  revenge,  and  revive 
my  drooping  life.  [Exit  Alan,  a.  H. 

Stump.  Ha  !  he  follows  the  captain — Oh  !  Lord  1  what  am  I  to  do! 

Enter  Da.  Rees,  l  h. 

Rees.  Hush  ! — I'll  tell  you. 

Stump.  Doctor! — are  you  there! 

Rees  Yes,  and  I  have  got  my  case  of  instruments  and  my  dictionary 
— where  is  Edgar  ! 

Stump.  Yonder — look  ! 

Rees.  I  see  him  ;  now.  corporal,  to  work  :  are  you  a  good  shot ! 

Slump.  I  can  knock  the  cork  out  of  a  bottle  of  wine  at  forty  paces. 

Rees.  In  that  case,  take  these  pistols. 

Stump.  They  belong  to  the  Colonel,  I  know  them  well. 

Rees.  Are  they  true  ! 

Slump.  As  gospel  ! 

Rees.  Then  follov/  me,  for  r.  ost  likeiv  I  shall  want  them  to  preach— 
hus  i  1  softly — this  way.  ,  [Exeunt,  a.  h 


THE  PHANTOM. 


27 


Scene  VI.  and  last. —  The  Peaks  of  Snowdon;  Edgab  discovered. 

Edgar.  How  chill  the  air  is  on  this  height,  but  how  pure.  The  slight¬ 
est  sound  is  audible.  Hark !  a  footstep — yes,  a  dark  form  emerges 
from  yonder  group  of  rocks — ’tis  Rookwood  ! 

Enter  Alan,  l.  h. 

Alan.  I  am  here. 

Edgar.  Our  business  needs  no  preface,  sir  ;  I  am  at  your  service. 

Alan.  Yonder  is  the  rock — follow  me. 

[Exeunt.  and  re-enter  upon  the  ledge  of  rocks.  They  take  off  their 
coats  and  waistcoats. 

Edgar.  Now,  sir,  I  am  ready,  but,  there  is  scarce  room  enough  to 
engage  our  weapons — they  are  too  long. 

Alan.  But  this  is  short  enough  ! 

[Casts  himself  on  Edgar  with  a  poignard 

Edgar.  A  dagger  !  —  ah,  traitor  ! — murderer  ! 

[Edgar  falls — Alan  kneels  over  him 

Alan.  Take  it  in  thy  throat,  and  let.  me  slake  my  thirst  in  thy  life¬ 
blood  ! 

|  A  shot  is  heard  outside — Alan  falls  back  with  a  cry — Edgar  rises. 

Enter  Dr.  Rees  and  Corporal,  l.  h. 

Slump.  I  say,  Doctor,  I  rung  the  bell,  didn’t  I  ? 

Edgar.  Doctor — Corporal  —  from  what  a  monster  have  you  pre¬ 
served  me  !  [ Disappears  from  ledge, 

Rees.  See,  a  party  with  torches,  ascend.  It  is  the  Colonel. 

Enter  Col.  Raby,  Ada  and  Jenny,  l.  h. 

Col.  I  heard  the  sound  of  fire-arms. 

Ada.  Where  is  Edgar? 

Enter  Edgar,  r.  h. 

Edgar.  Here,  dearest  Ada,  here,  my  own  ! 

[Embraces  Ada  — Dr  Rees  exits,  r.  h. 

Col.  You  have  escaped  the  impostor. 

Edgar.  Yonder  he  lies,  pierced  through  the  heart  by  a  bullet. 

Slump.  And  I  shan’t  sleep  any  the  worse  on  my  wedding  night,  be¬ 
cause  I  pulled  the  trigger 

Col.  Ere  the  good  old  doctor  hurried  on  your  track,  he  related  the 
particulars  of  the  forgery  ;  trembling;  in  every  limb,  he  proclaimed  the 
wretch  to  be  the  phantom  of  Alan  Raby  !  [The  moon  begins  to  rise. 

Ada.  Dear,  dear  Edgar,  the  fearful  influence  of  that  man  has  passed 
from  me  and  I  am  your  own  again. 

Col.  But  come,  let  us  return  home,  the  moon  is  rising,  it  will  light 
our  path.  To-morrow  we  will  send  assistance  to  remove  the  body  of 
that  unhappy  man. 

Stump.  But  where  is  the  Doctor  ! 

[The  limbs  of  Ai.an  begin  to  show  life — Dr.  Rees  appears  on  the 
.edge  of  rock. 

&  J  ■» 


28 


THE  PHANTOM. 


Rees  .  Here  I  am,  don’t  be  anxious,  I  have  a  little  duty  to  perform 
up  here.  I  shan’t  be  long. 

Edgar.  What  can  he  mean  ? 

R  ees.  Aye,  now  for  the  prescription.  [Reads.]  “  It  is  said,  that  if 
“  the  dead  body  of  the  vampire  be  exposed  to  the  first  rays  of  the  rising 
“  moon  which  touch  the  earth,  a  false  life  is  instilled  into  the  corpse.” 
And  see.  he  revives — he  revives  ! 

Col  Stop,  Doctor,  I  command  you. 

Rees.  [Reads]  “  After  death,  his  body  must  therefore  be  preserved 
“  from  the  moonlight,  lest,  by  virtue  of  its  rays,  he  might  revive  ’*  See — 
watch  his  heaving  form — already  the  life  comes  back  to  him,  limb  by 
limb  ! 

Col.  Hold  !  what  would  you  do  ! 

Rees.  Exterminate  the  phantom — into  this  black  chasm,  where  the 
light  of  heaven  never  visited,  I  cast  his  body  ! — may  his  dark  spirit 
sink  as  low  into  eternal  perdition  ! 

[Casts  the  body  of  Alan  Raby  into  the  abyss. 


oniTtis 


iTBLUElillliiH 


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iCMBOMEljj 


jlHUODY 


iWHITlMCHiW 


IWticnufttij 


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corK|||||!I| 


^o¥tcCn 


CREAM 


french’s  (late  LACY?s)  DESCRIPTIVE  LIST. 


c=. 


£u£2. 


ss 


rr~‘ 


£5 


O* 


B 3 


C3 


PROSCENIUM. 


A  most  effective  Proscenium  can  be  formed  by 
utilising  the  paper  made  for  this  purpose.  Three 
pieces  of  wood  are  merely  required,  shaped 
according  to  this  design,  and  covered  with  th# 

{>aper ;  the  proscenium  having  the  appearance  of 
ight  blue  puffed  satin  panels,  in  gold  frames, 
with  Shakespeare  medallion  in  the  centre. 


Puffed  satin  paper,  size  20  inches  by  30  inched, 
per  sheet,  25 cts. 

Imitation  Gold  Bordering,  per  sheet,  25c. 
making  14  feet. 

Shakespearian  Medallion,  18  inches  in  di¬ 
ameter,  50cts. 


O.C=3 


of  paper  each,  and  can  "he 
iize,  7  feet  by  3  feet.  Price, 


. — These  comprise  three  Bheets 
h&d^ither  for  drawing-room  or  cottage  purposes.  Size, 
complete,  $1.25  each. 

WINDOW  .—This  is  a  parlour  window  formed  with  two  sheets 
■  of  paper,  and  could  be  made  practicable  to  slide  up  and  down.  The  introduction 
of  curtains  each  side' would  make  it  very  effective.  Size,  3  feet  by  4>i  feet. 
Price,  $1.00,  complete. 

l-*T  m  A  rt~R, — This  is  also  made  with  two  sheets  of  paper. 
The  fire  is  lighted,  but  should  this  not  be  required  a  fire-paper  can  be  hung  over 
..  it.  It  will  be  found  most  useful  in  many  farces  wherein  a  character  has  to  climb 
up  a  chimney,  and  man}  plays  where  a  fireplace  is  indispensable.  By  purchasing 
•  door,  window.'and  fireplace  an  ordinary  room  scene  could  easily  be  constructor 
with  the  addition  of  some  wall-paper.  Size  3  ft.  by  4|  ft.  Price,  complete,  $1.25. 


MAKE-UP  BOX 


Tin  Case,  $5.00.  Cloth  Board,  $4.00. 

Con'ains  everything  necessary  for  making  up  the  faoe,  viz.  i— Rou^«,  Pearl 
Powder,  Whiting,  Mongolian,  Ruddy  Rouge,  Powdered  Antimony,  Joining  Paste* 
Violet  Powder,  Box  and  Puff  ;  Chrome,  Blue,  Burnt  Cork,  Pencils  for  the  Eye¬ 
lids,  Spirit  Gum,  Iudian  Ink,  Burnt  Umber,  Camel  Hair  Brushes,  Hares'  Foot, 
Wool, Grape  Hair, Gold  Cream.Paint  Saucer,  Miniature  Puffs,  Scissors  and  Looking 
Glass.  Each  article  is  of  the  best  quality.  Packed  neatly  in  a  Strong  Cloth, 
severed  Box,  $4;  Elegant  Tin  Case,  $5.  We  can  strongly  recommend  the  Tin 
•M98.  They  are  very  durable,  and  any  artiole  oan  be  died  without  disturbing 
another,  a  great  advantage  in  making-up. 
to  be ‘ 


The  above  articles 


had  separately.  See  preceding  pages. 


PRICE,  I5ots.  EACH, 


2STE3W  PIjA  S'S. 


Bitter  Reckoning 

Poppleton’s  Predicaments 

Old  Sailor 

Eileen  Oge 

Auld  Acquaintance 

Pampered  Menials 

Bathing 

Weeds 

Noblesse  Oblige 

An  Old  Score 

White  Pilgrim 

Lad  from  the  Country 

My  Sister  from  kndia 

Dentist’s  Clerk 

.Sot  False  but  Fickle 

Maria  Martin 

Lancers 

Infatuation 

Among  the  Relics 

Lucille 

Davenport  Bros.  &  Co. 

Nabob  for  an  Hour 

Randall’s  Thumb 

Freezing  a  Mother-in-Law 

An  Old  Man 

Wicked  World 

That  Dreadful  Doctor 

Village  Nightingale 

Two  Orphans 

Plot  for  Plot 

Our  Nelly 

’Twixt  Axe  and  Crown 

Our  Relatives 

Partners  for  Life 

Wonderful  Woman 

Engaged 

Chopstick  and  Spikins 

Curious  Case 

My  Awful  Dad 

Chiselling 

Forty  Winks 

On  Bail 

Birds  in  their  Little  Nests 

Lady  Clancarty 

Tom  Cobb 

Pretty  Predican.,  ht 

Never  Too  Late  to  Mend 

Bow  Bells 

Seven  Sins 

Lily  of  France 

Married  for  Money 

Insured  at  Lloyd’s 

Led  Astray,  25  cts. 

Funnibone’s  Fix 

Hand  and  Glove 

Henry  V.,  new  version 

Patter  versus  Clatter 

Keep  Your  Eye  on  Her 

Unequal  Match 

For  her  Child’s  Sake 

Jessamy's  Courtship 

May,  or  Dolly’s  Delusion 

Married  in  Haste  . 

False  Alarm 

As  Like  as  Two  Peas 

Our  Boys 

Up  in  the  World 

Court  Caras 

Which 

Parted 

Happy  Lanu 

My  Father’s  Will 

One  in  Hand,  &c. 

Allatoona 

Daniel  Rochat 

Little  Sunshine 

Enoch  Arden 

Onjfie 

Who’l  Lend  me  a  Wife 

Weak  Woman 

school 

Extremes  Meet 

How  She  Loves  Sun 

Home 

Golden  Plough 

Our  Society 

David  Garrick 

Sweethearts 

Motker-in-Law 

Ours 

Velvet  and  Rags 

Snowed  In 

Social  Glass 

Cut  for  Partner 

Terrible  Tinker 

Daniel  Druce 

Love’s  Alarm 

My  TJncle’e  Will 

Pinafore 

An  Appeal  to  the  Feelings 

Our  Friends 

Old  Soldier 

Tale  of  a  Comet 

Queen  of  HeanD 

My  Daughter’s  DSbttt 

Under  False  Colors 

Lady  of  Lyons  Married 

Word  of  Honor 

Heroes 

and  Settled 

Sold  Again 

Philanthropy 

Bitter  Cold 

Guy  Fawkes 

Little  Vixens 

Peacock  's  Holiday 

Little  Madcap 

Telephone 

Daisy  Farm 

Handsome  Jack 

Too  Late  to  Sava 

Wrinkles 

Scarlet  Dick 

Just  My  Luck 

Lancashire  Lass 

Wedding  March 

Grateful  Father 

On  an  Island 

My  Wife’s  Father’s  Sister 

Happy  Medium 

Q.  E.  D. 

His  Novice 

Sole  Survivor 

Withered  Leaves 

Much  too  Clever 

Neck  or  Nothing 

Ruth’s  Romance 

Hamlet  Improved 

ARTICLES,  HEELED  BY  AMATEURS, 

Such  as  Tableaux  Lights,  Magnesium  Tableaux  Lights,  Prepared  BUYEkt 
Cork,  Grease,  Paints,  Lightning  for  Pnvi  te  Theatricals. 


Guide  to  Selecting  Plays,  Hints  on  Costume,  Scenery  to  fit  any  Stage* 

Jarley’s  Wax  Works,  Ethiopian  Plays,  Charades,  Amateur’s  Guide,  Guide  to 

the  Stage. 

new  OATAurri'b  e  isEjxin?  eie^ee. 

SAMUEL  FRENCH  &  SON, 


